To Walk Upon Black Sand
by MoonlightGypsy
Summary: MA for violence and adult situations The team investigates a gruesome murder that takes Gibbs back in time. A dark past from his days in Desert Storm reveals why he and those closest to him are in grave danger...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm back !**

Hello my fantastic readers ! I'm back at it again – and wanted to thank you guys so very much for all the kindness, reviews, and support in reading my stories and helping me win not one, but two awards at ANCON. Smile of the Moon won for best NCIS Suspense and Pandora's Box won for best NCIS Slash (and, if you are underage – stick with the first one as Pandora's Box is quite racy).

I have started my book, in hoped of publishing in 2012 – but we shall see ! My usual publish rate might be a bit slower- but I shall try not to go more than a week, if not sooner.

I do not own, or claim to own, any rights or trademark on NCIS or the characters used here. I simply like to play colorforms. Note though, that the creativity of the story, and it's plot, those are indeed mine.

WARNING : This story has very graphic violent material, and is not suitable for everyone.

**THANKS – GRACIAS – DANKA – DOMO – GRAZIE**

* * *

OCT 9, 2012

"Boss?"

The older man heard it as if from a distance, his concentration split between looking at the dead man lying on ground and pushing back memories from another place and time…

"...Boss?" McGee called softly the second time, seeing the slight tick in his Gibbs' jaw muscle.

Tony raised a brow, and gave the Probie a subtle wave, urging him to leave Gibbs be for a moment.

Tim nodded silently in response, shifting on his feet to continue to take in both their murder victim, and Gibbs' unsettling lack of motion.

They could hear the wind moving through the wooded estate surrounding them, and the sound of Palmer wrestling the gurney from Ducky's truck. It was a fairly warm day, for October, and there were still many leaves left on the trees.

The silence seemed to stretch as they waited for the man to reply, but Gibbs seemed frozen, still looking down at the body of LC Louis Colletti. His dark curly hair and eyelashes stood out against the ghostly blue tint of dead flesh. His brown eyes were cracked open, just a sliver, staring at nothing.

Even Ducky, now kneeling on the ground with his equipment, had momentarily stopped what he was doing, and looked up at Gibbs from under the brim of his hat with curiosity.

"Do you recognize these marks, Jethro?"

Gibbs' steely blue eyes never left the dead man, as he quietly said," Maybe… maybe, Duck."

Tony and McGee looked down as well, at the gruesome corpse.

The unfortunate victim had a gash across his throat that dark streaks of blood had run from. His arms and legs were splayed out wide, much like the DaVinci man's pose, and the white flesh of his torso almost looked purple tinted in contrast to the russet and gold fall leaves he'd been placed upon. The body had been placed, clothed only in a pair of black scrub-type pants, face up under an oak tree. The tree itself was part of a fifty acre estate belonging to one James Grassman, who Ziva and Dornegat were looking for to interview.

There were several, disquieting, if not deeply disturbing details about this murder. A slit throat with bloodstains coming from it was something they had seen before. But this time, the stains didn't run down or back...they ran up and over the man's chin and face, as if he had been hung upside down, and bled like an animal.

And most unusual of all, there were angry burns on his chest and stomach, in strange shapes Tony could not recognize. One was at the base of the man's throat, two on his chest, two on the hips. Tony thought they looked astrological, but he couldn't place a specific meaning to them.

"They look like…some kind of astrological symbols…or…Enochian," McGee murmured to himself mostly.

"Enochian," Tony said, looking at him, "is that the language of Ewoks, Probie?"

McGee snorted, "No Tony, Enochian is an Angelic language made up of symbols, and…" his confidence seemed to plummet momentarily.

Tony smiled, "And what, McGee?"

"I-I know a little of it because it's used in one of my online games," he finished, expecting his SFA to have a field day with it. He frowned as Tony smiled even wider.

"Ah, okay, so it is a language…of nerds, albeit dangerous ones in this case. Can you read it, McGeek?" Tony asked with a tone that was more serious than the words he used. Gibbs hadn't seemed to hear them.

"No," Tim shook his head.

Tony just shrugged, and continued to wait for Gibbs to say something. He was starting to feel a little apprehensive, but finally Gibbs straightened and spoke.

"McGee, call Abby and ask her to come down here." Gibbs said and stood back, jaw slightly clenched.

McGee nodded, "Onnit Boss," and walked away, pulling out his phone.

Ducky looked at Gibbs for a moment longer as well, and then went back to his intake.

Tony had a bad feeling about the way Gibbs was fixated on the body. Something was definitely…off…

"What's going on, Boss? You seem…spooked." Tony asked softly, stepping closer to stand at Gibbs side, and looking him dead in the eye.

"We've got a crime scene to photograph, DiNozzo," Gibbs answered evenly, looking up at his SFA with a subtle warning in his glare. "I suggest you get started."

"Ah, sure…onnit Boss." Tony knew whatever had Gibbs so tweaked, there would be no sharing for the time being. He greatly respected and admired his friend, and long time leader, but sometimes Gibbs' tight lipped secret-keeping fried Tony's nerves...It was hard to swallow down that they could be partners and friends for so long...and Gibbs still didn't tell him things. And he knew something was going on here.

There were no signs of struggle. Just the LC's clothing folded in a near perfect square, not far from the body, dog tags lying right on top.

Aside a few broken twigs, there was not much. Tony could hear Palmer and Ducky talking about the dead man, and his strange presentation. He heard Gibbs talking to McGee, and then Ziva, who had returned up the noisy gravel drive some twenty feet from where the victim had been discovered, The owner of the estate had no knowledge of the murder, nor had he heard or seen anything, until his dog had found the body during their morning walk.

Tony looked at the trees, and the ground, which showed a trail, though faint, leading up to the main road in front of the estate. Rain the night before left everything a bit damp, and in some places, muddy.

"How could you get a six foot Marine through the woods…with so little trouble…no drag…" he thought out loud, still shooting with the camera.

It was eerily quiet, as he stepped over a fallen log to follow the trail. The main road was close…he heard a car pass by. And then suddenly a small clearing opened up, just before the copse of trees that separated the estate from the main road.

"Boss!" he called out, and snapped some more photos.

In the mud, as plain as day, were not one, but six sets of footprints.

* * *

McGee was given the task of taking detailed photos and molds of the footprints, as best he could. The mud hadn't hardened yet, so it was going to take time and great care to accomplish their task.

Ziva and Dornegat had been sent back out in the neighborhood - trying to talk to neighbors to see if there were any witnesses who could at least ID a car or something out of place... but there was a lot of distance between houses in the upper scale neighborhood. They had their work cut out for them as well.

Tony usually went out to do the interviews, but he volunteered to stay and work the scene with Gibbs. He felt the need to protect Gibbs...but had no idea why.

Tony met Abby up on the main road, helping her out of the hearse with her black parasol.

He smiled as he took her hand, and tipped his cap, "My lady Abigail, may I assist you to your party?"

She grinned with a twinkle in her eye, taking his hand.

"Why yes, Sir Tony, I would be in your debt for the kindness."

He took in her combat boots. "I'm glad you came prepared. It's still a little muddy in there."

"Well, it's a good thing I have a big bad Special Agent to keep me from nose-diving into the mud." She smiled as they made their way down the graveled drive and off to the side, into the trees.

In a more serious tone, she said, "What should I know about this, Tony? McGee mentioned…Enochian, or some kind of symbols on the body. And that Gibbs was doing the Gibbsicle thing."

"Ah…yeah…you'll see. The body has some unusual markings on it…did you just say, Gibbsicle?" He stopped, raising a brow and smiling at her, just as they got to the crime scene, where Gibbs, Ducky, and Palmer were still waiting for her before moving the corpse.

"Yeah, Tony…" she said softly. "Frozen in place…taking it in. Seemingly unaware of the world in general. Like…like that." She nodded towards Gibbs, and Tony could see the older man was once again looking down at Louis Colletti, with an intensity that was making them all a little edgy. "This is never good," she muttered, as she approached them.

"Gibbs!" she called pleasantly enough.

Tony was surprised to see Gibbs jerk ever so slightly, as if in surprise.

"Abbs," He greeted. "Glad you could make it."

"Oh yeah, no problem bossman. The hearse had a little trouble getting up the hill, but otherwise she was okay. I think she needs a tune-up though. And I haven't wanted to go because you know, my mechanic has a little crush on me, and-"

"Abby!" Gibbs warned.

"Ok, right down to business then." She turned and said "Hi guys!" to Ducky and Palmer, who returned her greeting pleasantly.

She then took in the gruesome remains behind them on the ground.

Abby walked around the body, as the other men stepped back to giver her space.

She took a full two turns around the body, holding the handle of her parasol with two hands, and then came to a stop at his head, frowning. She took a deep breath in and sighed sadly, "Hinky."

Tony watched Gibbs almost twitching. He hoped Abby knew to stick to the matter at hand…Gibbs' body language spoke tension, and something else Tony couldn't place.

"What, besides the obvious about this, do you find "Hinky", Abigail?" Ducky asked, jumping in quickly as if reading Tony's mind.

"His head, is facing south. His body, positioned specifically to point that way, and possibly to convey a symbolic purpose. The symbols on his body," she pointed with her black polished finger, "are positioned on the body to echo it's placement."

Gibbs came to stand beside her, and asked, "What do you mean?"

She looked at Gibbs, "I know the symbols are some kind of blend of Enochian and old world astrology. I'll have to study them and let you know later…but…" she slowly looked down at the dead man's face, and the wide open gash across his throat, and shuddered. "This is wayyy not cool Gibbs."

He raised his brows at her as they waited for her to continue.

"It's…the upside-down pentagram, Gibbs. The position of the body and the marks of it. And the way he was positioned when they …slashed his throat…Gibbs…" she swallowed and her eyes grew almost impossibly large," I think this was a Satanic Cult. And one that believes in human sacrifice."


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs was his usual Evil Kenievil on the way back to the Navy Yard.

_How'd I get so lucky to get to ride with the Boss today? _Tony thought to himself sarcastically.

Ziva, Tim, and Dornegat had taken the truck. _Bastiges !_

It must have been that Gibbs was so deep in thought, that his usual breakneck speed driving wasn't as professionally accurate as normal.

In fact, they had come close to clipping two cars on the highway, and when they took the exit for downtown, Tony thought for sure the car was going to roll off the ramp.

At that point he gasped and closed his eyes, muttering, "I'm too young to die... I still have a three-way with Jessica Alba and Halle Berry on my bucket list…"

He heard Gibbs sigh.

"I'm sure you'll live to figure out that will never happen another day, DiNozzo. Boy you're squirrely today."

"Me? Me? I'm squirrely ?" Tony said with exasperation, narrowing his green eyes and turning his head to look at Gibbs. "Think you're the one hiding the nuts, Boss."

He saw Gibbs raise a brow at the analogy.

"Well…whatever. You seemed a little…intense…at the crime scene," Tony said with a questioning tone.

Gibbs sighed again and clenched his jaw.

"Ok- so – you're always intense – but – I know something's really bugging you about this. It's okay Boss, I mean- it's a terrible end for the guy. And super creepy. A little bit Excorcist meets Battle Los Angeles…or is it Satan's Cheerleaders meets Generation kill…?"

"You share Abby's Caf-Pow today, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked with irritation.

Tony got quiet for a moment, really looking at Gibbs. And Gibbs felt it, gripping the steering wheel a little harder. He was not in the mood for this.

"What are we dealing with here, Boss? Do you know something about this murder?" Tony spoke the words softly, watching Gibbs grimace a little more.

"I. Don't. Know." Gibbs sighed. "I've seen markings like that before…"

Tony didn't like the way his superior's eyes darkened.

"But I don't know it has anything to do with this at all…or even if they are the same as the ones I saw…" his voice dropped off almost to a whisper. "It was a long time ago."

Gibbs kept his eyes on the road. He offered no more for the moment, and Tony knew he'd need to press again. Later.

For now, he just hoped Gibbs would concentrate a little more on the road, so they didn't turn out to be the next emergency call for the local LEO's.

* * *

When they got back and settled, McGee started checking into LC Colletti's military and personal records and finances, while Ziva and Dornegat still stood, awaiting Gibbs' orders.

"Tony, you and Ziver go speak with Colletti's family. Baltimore's a ride, but you won't be back too late."

"Ahhhh…Boss- I think talking to the family with ZIva is a good experience for Dorney."

Dornegat gave him a puzzled look, as did Gibbs. Ziva had already turned to get her coat, not caring either way who went.

"Dorney no good ? Nougat? I'm working on the nickname. It's not a perfect science," Tony said indignantly.

Dornegat snorted while Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Fine," Gibbs said, looking at Tony, and knowing why Tony was sticking around. Tony always had his back. And now the younger Agent was worried about him. "Get the footprint evidence from the crime scene down to Abby. Then help McGee until Ducky has something for us. I'm going to MTAC to brief Director Vance."

"You got it Boss," Tony said pleasantly, moving to sit at his desk. "When is the Director back from his conference?"

Gibbs grunted, "Not soon enough," as he turned to go up the stairs.

"Dorney?" McGee said, once Gibbs was out of earshot. "Nougat?" he even laughed a little at that. "Seriously?"

"McGee, McProbieProbster, Probalicious – I can't call Dornegat _Probie_, can I ?"

"Well," McGee frowned. "Isn't that what he is? I mean, I am senior to him. He IS the Probie."

Tony raised a brow at McGee, tilting his head. "Well…_you_ can call him Probie. But…Tim, you're always gonna' be _my_ Probie, no matter how big and bad you become. OH sorry – no matter how big and bad you ARE." Tony grinned warmly at him.

McGee smiled. Tony was as endearing as annoying. And from Tim's estimate, it was an even split. But the comment…he knew Tony meant it, with fondness and sincerity. He thought himself a pretty damned good Agent, and he knew, he wouldn't have made it so far without support from Tony when he needed it. In spite of…maybe _all_ of his belongings in the office being super-glued over the years.

"Okay Tony. I get it," McGee said turning back to his computer. "We'll think of something."

* * *

Some two hours later, McGee and Tony had Colletti's life condensed down to about 806kb of computer memory.

"What have you got?" Gibbs asked, almost cursorily.

Tony nodded and McGee clicked the controller. The Marine's military ID and Driver's License popped up onscreen.

Tony began. "LC Louis Colletti, twenty-nine years old, single and living at home with his parents in Baltimore-when not away on tour. According to his CO – who was more than willing to talk about how great Colletti was – he got along with everyone. No trouble at home or abroad. Did a stint in Afghanistan, and one in Iraq, and was home on leave before he was supposed to be going to Italy. Poor guy. He was gonna' go from desert rocks to sexy women and pasta. He was a decorated Marine with 2nd Division Recon…a Scout Sniper…" Tony looked at Gibbs. "Like you, Boss."

Gibbs flashed him glance before looking back to the screen, "What else?"

Tony continued. "CO said the guys he served with really loved him, he was, and I quote, "The life of the party, but always dependable, and served with honor."

McGee chimed in, "Colletti went to UB and dropped out later to join the Core. He had a few student loans but paid them off. He had little debt, owned a Honda Civic which at the moment we have a BOLO out on, and can cancel if Ziva tell us it's still at his family's house. His personal records are squeaky clean. "

"Good," Gibbs said. "McGee…see if you can look a little further…into his personal file. Even high school. His faith registered on his Military papers ?"

Tony and McGee both raised brows but McGee answered quickly, "Catholic."

Gibbs nodded. "Look into James Grassman next. I wanna know who lives and works at that Estate, since he was fairly useless when Ziva and Dorneget spoke with him."

McGee nodded. "Yes Boss."

"And Sechuan for lunch," Gibbs added as he turned to Tony and said, 'Ducky." And with that made towards the elevator, with Tony on his heels.

* * *

"…So…when the child had come up the steps to ring Mother's bell for candy, Liza, her youngest dog had a bit of a panic fit and defacated all over Mother's oriental rug. It seems Liza had a fear of vacuum cleaners, and the child had created her robot costume out of old vacuum parts and hoses…Oh she was really mad at that dog for quite some time…"Ducky trailed off as Palmer moved seamlessly around the table, passing instruments and gathering cups filled with organs to weigh.

LC Colletti was cut and pinned wide open, but it seemed like they were getting ready to start closing.

He turned towards them, lifting his face shield for a moment. "Jethro, Anthony, I had wondered when you were to grace us with the pleasure of your company."

He walked a step up to Gibbs, who regarded the ME almost a bit warily.

"I had thought you would have been here much sooner…based on the level of interest in this poor boy you displayed at the crime scene." Ducky eyed him a bit more.

When Gibbs only gave him an impatient frown, Ducky turned. "Mister Palmer?"

"Yes Doctor Mallard?" Jimmy returned pleasantly, putting a tray down with bloody latex covered fingers.

"Would you mind finishing up while I speak to our Special Agents?"

"Not at all Doctor," Jimmy smiled, nodding his greeting to Tony and Gibbs.

"Duck," was all Gibbs said. It implied, what have you got already ?

"Louis Colletti was a very healthy young man before he met this very gruesome fate. He was in top physical condition, and preliminary examination shows healthy skin and hair growth. He was, however, underweight, extremely dehydrated, and I suspect drugged."

They looked at Ducky inquisitively.

"I say I suspect because I have sent samples of the Lance Corporal's blood…and…stomach contents to Abby for analysis. If you look at his wrists and ankles, there are signs he was bound but did not struggle so very much. He had very little bruising as well…for someone who was branded with some kind of burning metal instrument or brand. It would have been extremely painful at the least. And he did receive the burned symbols, and slit throat, while he was alive."

Tony shuddered, and looked at the dead man on the table as Palmer began to remove all the pins.

"Slash to the throat killed him?" Gibbs asked quietly.

Ducky nodded, "Yes. He bled out…but…It wasn't as quick or as furious as would be expected. I believe we will find that he was heavily drugged, and likely not conscious at the end. Whatever was in his system likely slowed his heart rate down…and likely would have killed him if the blood loss had not."

"You mentioned stomach contents…?" Tony asked.

"Ah, yes." Ducky turned and picked up a small steel dish containing blackish-red fluid. "I sent this to Abby for analysis also. I found blood in Louis Colletti's stomach…but strangely…no ulcers were present."

Suddenly, Tony felt nauseous. "He…what, drank blood?"

Gibbs shook his head to himself at the dark detail.

"Perhaps," Ducky nodded. "I would expect based on his throat wound that he could have swallowed some of his own blood, but we shall see what Abby says. In addition," Ducky said, pointing at one of the burned symbols in the dead man's skin, "These marks were all given in intervals, with distinct meaning to the order, though I do not know what that order represents. Based on the way they were healing…or slightly infected, I should add, he had received the first approximately one month before his death. The freshest one, is here, at the base of his throat." Ducky finished by pointing to his own neck, as not to disturb Palmer.

They were all silent for a stretch.

"Anything else, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. I assume he was good with a rifle, Jethro, since he has calluses in similar places on his hands as yours. Another Marine Sniper. A very sorry thing it is, that he was not able to use that skill to stop the people who did this to him."


	3. Chapter 3

Tony glanced up occasionally, while he continued working at his desk on paperwork related to the crime scene and Colletti case.

But Gibbs didn't seem to notice. He seemed like he was _trying _to be busy. And answering emails, if the several times pounding his keyboard was any indicator.

Finally, he stood up, with an impatient growl, looking directly at McGee. "You find anything else yet on Colletti, McGee?"

Tim looked up, wide-eyed and a bit startled, "N-no. Not yet Boss." McGee had honestly not found much to help the case, and had been intently concentrating on his searches.

"Grassman?" Gibbs said next, as Tony stood up and walked towards them, knowing the lead Agent was growing frustrated.

"Ah…well…Grassman and his wife Joanie have lived on the estate for fifteen years. They have a daughter, Michelle, who they filed a missing persons on last year in November. She's 25, and the case was closed when she was found to be living in LA with her boyfriend. Nothing more was written up on that. Grassman has two drunk and disorderlies, and one DUI all within the last three years. Joanie Grassman has a clean record. She is employed at a Finance One Bank n Middleton. Grassman is employed as an equine veterinarian in his own business…for some very high end clients, owning anything from stock breeds to racehorses."

Gibbs continued to stare at him.

"I'll…ah…keep looking…"McGee murmured while going back to his screen.

As Gibbs was about to say something else, Tony said, "Hey, I bet Abby's got somethin' Boss…" he smiled cheerfully, wincing very slightly as Gibbs turned the glare toward him.

"Yeah, DiNozzo? Hope you win that bet," he said gruffly, storming out of the bullpen towards the Lab, with Tony trailing after, shooting McGee a reticent look.

* * *

Marilyn Manson.

"Of course, suits the case," Tony said to himself softly with a small chuckle, as they entered the lab.

The music was loud as per the usual, as they approached and saw her looking through a scope, tapping her 5" heeled black boot on the floor, while various machines twirled and hummed around her, drowned out by "The Dope Show". Onscreen, in full Technicolor as one of the photos of the odd symbols that had been burnd into Colletti's skin.

Gibbs perched the Caf-Pow on the counter next to her, as she actually jumped back a bit, clutching her heart.

"GIBBS! It is NOT NICE to sneak up on an Abby like that!" she was slightly breathless as she looked at him intently with her pale eyes.

Then she looked at the Caf-Pow, "Of course, all can be forgiven, now that you have brought me the nectar," she grabbed the cup and took a sip, "of the Gods." Then she took a breath and smiled a little wanly. She grabbed the remote to turn down the music.

"You spooked, Abs?" Gibbs asked her gently, with his head tilted.

Tony was interested in the answer, since not much scared Abby. Besides the Caf-Pow machine running out. And being forced to wear anything from Dress Barn.

She hesitated for a moment. "Well, this case…it's a little hinky. And by _hinky_, this time I mean super creepy and extra yucky. Or maybe, I should come up with another word besides hinky, that describes super creepy and extra yucky?" She caught Gibbs' brow going up. "And I'll work on that...after we solve this case."

Tony smiled. "What have you got, Abs?"

She walked to her monitor. "Well, I have a lot still running in the machines, between the body itself, the blood and tissue sample, the footprints from the scene…which by the way were many, so I don't have the full picture on those yet. But I guess first I will start with the symbols." She stood at her keyboard, placing her black painted fingertips on it.

Gibbs and Tony got closer as she spoke and scrolled through the symbol photos.

"Each one is a blend of an Enochian glyph, and an astrological symbol," she began, blinking under her dark bangs.

"Hmmm. The Elf Lord was right," Tony murmured, as Gibbs glared at him to shut up before turning back to the screen.

"Well, this is unusual because, most pagans who go in this direction, would not blend Enochian symbols with astrology, since the Enochian symbols already have astrology mapped in."

"What does that mean?" Gibbs asked.

"The angels themselves have planetary rulerships, so one would be the ruler of Mars, or Jupiter, etc. And just to clarify Enochian, which is called the language of angels, and was created by John Dee who was sort of a scientist-slash-magician, and Edward Kelly, a medium, in the late 16th century. They claimed to transcribe the language through direct contact with angels…but of course, that's up for debate. They claimed this was the universal language before the Confusion of Tongues at the Tower of Babel. But…anyway – the symbols and language are used by different pagan groups, sometimes including people from formal organizations like the Golden Dawn or generally Wiccans studying all forms of occult knowledge…but…"she bit her lip a little.

"But what, Abs?" Gibbs asked softly.

"Gibbs," she turned to him, dismayed, "this really upsets me. I mean, besides the fact that someone is dead…because even though I go to church and believe in God, I believe in us. As in **us.** Our country, and our right to believe however we feel we should. I have friends who are Wiccan, and also who practice shamanism…they do not believe in hurting others...and when this happens," she turned and faced the screen, "some people associate this kind of horrible twisted action with all pagans. It's…unfair…"

Gibbs looked away for a moment, and Tony couldn't read what that meant.

"Anyway, unfortunately," she sighed, "the man who wrote the Satanic Bible-"

"Anton LaVey," Gibbs stated quietly.

Tony could feel his eyes widen a bit along with Abby's this time as they both stared at Gibbs.

"-Ah…yes, good…guess….I guess…Bossman, Anton LaVey, who wrote the Satanic Bible, included some of the symbols in it." She stared at Gibbs a moment longer, but he gave nothing else away, his blue eyes locked back onto the screen. Tony shrugged behind Gibbs and shook his head, as she frowned slightly. "Ok well," she turned back, "all five of the symbols represent angels of the elements, plus one that represents and angelic soldier, positioned on earth, named Castael. That is the symbol placed at the base of the throat. Each symbol has been combined, very specifically and uniquely," she clicked, showing them a two color drawing of each symbol, indicating the Enochian and combined astrological sign. "One with Mars, one with Jupiter, one Mercury, one Saturn. And the one for Castael has a symbol for Earth combined into it. It's like…double power. Or what the killer thinks is double power. Originally I thought this was a cult. And then later I thought, no…how many real cults do we come across?….but then looking at the symbols, and the way this poor guy was killed…"

"Genuine nuts, surely gone' fishin'," Tony said quietly.

"Yup," she nodded her head.

Gibbs remained quiet, looking at the symbols onscreen, almost as mesmerized as he was in the morning by looking at the actual body.

Abby looked at Gibbs worriedly, without him seeming to notice. Tony caught her eye again, nodding slightly for her to continue as he shifted on his feet a little.

"I know Ducky already told you the brands were given at set intervals, and I'm thinking once a week, on a specific day based on some related planetary or angelic association, and the last one, was given right before death." She turned to a different computer. "Which brings us to toxicology."

"How does a guy, get branded like that, and murdered without some signs of resistance?" Tony asked.

"I believe I can answer that," Ducky's voice chimed in suddenly. He walked over looking at Abby's screen, reading it for a moment. "Yes…I was guessing that was the culprit." He turned to them, a small bit of light reflecting off his glasses. "In looking closer at the samples of the Lance Corporal's organs and muscle tissue, I could see a good bit of damage and even cellular death. The liver and kidneys appeared as if they suffered a bout with hyperpyrexia."

Tony frowned while Gibbs just listened.

"Extremely high fever," Abby translated.

"Yes, exactly," Ducky continued, "but my first assumption was that the was some kind of depressant drug involved, due to the amount of blood still in the body…in all actuality with a throat gash like that, I was surprised the poor boy still had anything left. But in all actuality his body functions were sluggish because his organs had begun shutting down."

"He was already dead, even if they didn't cut him," Gibbs said softly.

"Yes, Jethro. And instead of a tranquilizer or depressant we have our familiar nemesis, methylenedioxy N methyl-"

"MDMA," Abby said, translating again, "ecstasy."

"So," Tony questioned, "he didn't fight back because the EX made him…what, too relaxed or happy to care what was happening to him?"It sent a chill up his spine, imagining poor Colletti, oblivious to his own impending doom, confused...had he been conscious when they seared his flesh?

Gibbs looked up curiously at Abby and Ducky.

"Well, at first…"Abby said thoughtfully, "he probably was giddy and happy, probably a little agitated, but, I think they gave him a lot so he was just…out of it. And then probably had a high fever…making him listless. He may have been lucid for some of the time but I think drugged during the...branding sessions at least..."

"Yes, precisely," Ducky said, rubbing his chin a bit. "And Abby's report shows a thorough overdose…at the point of death, thankfully, the lad knew nothing. I was surprised however…that there was not so much dehydration, or water intoxication, but perhaps the Lance Corporal's requests for water were denied only until the drugged water was given. Based on his physical condition before death and what is shown on his medical records file, he lost some twenty odd pounds from his last physical dated six months ago…we can suspect they did not feed him much, or just enough to keep him alive for their…purposes." Ducky scowled at the end. "This was almost…methodical..."

"Speaking of what they fed him," Abby said and then sighed again. She turned and pulled up another screen, as Ducky looked closer at it. "Stomach contents…well…content…was…human blood." She looked somberly at Gibbs and Tony, as Ducky's brows raised at the information on the screen. "And it wasn't his."


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone in the room blanched at Abby's last comment.

Tony looked at Gibbs and Ducky briefly, both stone-faced and staring at the dark haired woman. She nervously played with her hands while looking at Gibbs.

Tony felt sickened himself as he said quietly, "Whose is it ?"

Abby glanced back to him and shrugged a little, "I don't know. It's hard to identify in its current state - but I am doing what I can to run it for DNA. I have no way to know right now. I need a little more time and I can tell you if it's male or female…"

They could hear Gibbs' subtle sigh.

"Anything else, Abbs?" the Senior Agent asked on an exhale.

"No," she frowned, thinking that Gibbs suddenly looked a million years old, and a bit paler than usual..."But I'm working on the footprints and I'll call when I've got more on them and the blood."

Gibbs nodded to her, giving her a gentle squeeze on the elbow, and then turned, saying, "Thanks, Duck," before he walked smoothly out of the room.

They all looked at each other for a moment.

"So, which part of this has him the most tweaked out?" Tony asked them, loosening his tie.

Abby and Ducky looked at each other. And after a moment of silent communication, Ducky turned and said, "The symbols. I am fairly certain of it. It was as if Jethro went into a sort of trance looking at them on the body this morning."

Abby nodded. "Yeah, he was all, frozen Gibbsicle, looking at the screen for a little too before…so I think that's it too. Well, besides…the…gross…blood yucky ickiness. The…blickiness…no…" she shook her head, turning away from them towards her machines again. "Maybe…it's gruck, or …" she continued softly mumbling, diving back into her work, as Tony and Ducky smiled faintly at her and walked out of the lab together.

* * *

"I don't often see Jethro in this state, said Ducky softly, with a hint of concern. He sighed, "Maybe you should try to discuss it with him, Anthony. Try to get him to…open up to you a bit."

"Ducky," Tony snorted, "Have you ever maybe tried...juggling scorpions?"

Ducky smiled at the analogy, "Now, now, my dear boy, it should not be as difficult as all_ that_. After all, you have been his partner for a good many years…Jethro _trusts _you. And you two have been through many situations, some of them quite tenuous…" his voice trailed off as they passed through the bullpen, seeing McGee focused intently on his computer screen and not looking up. "I can give it a try myself later, to see if he will tell us what is plaguing his mind…"

"Nice choice of words, Ducky," Tony said with a small chortle, looking around for Gibbs as they came around the man was nowhere to be seen. _But, he was just right ahead of us…_

"Oh I am sorry, Anthony, I forgot," Ducky said apologetically, knowing Tony was referring to his bout with Y. Pestis some years back.

The SFA grinned slyly in response letting the older man know he was just kidding, and wasn't really disturbed by the reference.

But as Tony continued walking Ducky to the elevator, and they neared it, he raised a brow over widening green eyes looking ahead.

"I dunno' Duck," Tony said evenly, turning slightly and leveling his gaze down at the ME. "How many times over the years have you seen Gibbs do that?"

Ducky followed Tony's thumb as it jerked forward. Looking up, he saw the elevator stop signal on the dial plate, indicating that Gibbs, who had been only seconds before them, had gotten on and hit the stop.

Alone.

Ducky scowled. "Oh my."

* * *

Gibbs rested his head against the cool steel door of the elevator, one hand still on the stop button.

With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and willed himself to remember.

It was a long time ago.

When Shannon and Kelly were still alive.

"God..." he whispered to himself. "They were still alive..."

So many feelings...so much regret, that he hadn't been home when they needed him.

He'd worked out most of the guilt over the years...but some things never go away completely. Revenge hadn't given the solace he'd craved. Some things you just have to suck up and live with.

Right before he was sent back stateside, things had been pretty screwed up for him...America was about to win the Gulf War...but he'd never had the opportunity to celebrate the victory with the other Marines in his unit.

Brief flashes at first went through his mind...even some scant idea of smells...dirt, petrol, smoke, blood.

And a vision of sand that was soaked with blood and scorched black.

So many things he hadn't thought about in years...some had become a blur...but...

Those symbols…

* * *

(Flashback, Outside Khafji, Saudi Arabia January 1991)

"_Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs reporting for duty sir !" He saluted, at attention in his full desert tack._

"_At ease, Gunny," the man's oily voice drifted to him from the back of the tent. _

_Captain Kenneth James Malloy made his way over to look the new Gunny in the face._

_In the simple overhead light, and also from some of the sunlight coming through the tent seams, Gibbs took in the man's shiny, sweaty skin. He was wearing his fatigues and boots, but no shirt. He had dark hair, graying at the temples, and slightly bloodshot hazel eyes. Older and a bit more weathered than the younger marine before him, Malloy was lithe and leathery, his eyes shining with sharp intelligence. He was as tall as Gibbs._

"_You know why you're here, Gunny?" Malloy took a drag off his cigarette._

"_Sir! Yes sir!"_

_He sighed in frustration. "I said AT EASE Gibbs. Don't make me repeat myself or I'll make sure you're always the one rackin' in the shitholes."_

"_Understood, sir," Gibbs said, allowing his body to ease off its professional stance. He could feel sweat dripping down his sides from having to wear full gear on his way through the afternoon desert heat to Bravo Company's line 2 command center. He knew his face was red from the exertion of tromping through the sand after he'd jumped off the transport. "I'm here to fill in because you're down a Sniper Scout, Gunnery Sergeant John Schaefer, lost to friendly fire."_

"_Yep," Malloy said, looking down for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, before throwing his cigarette down and stomping it out with his boot on the dusty dirt floor. He stood up and sighed. "Take a seat, Gunny."_

_Malloy walked over to his makeshift desk (which consisted of a basic folding table and chairs). His desk had several stacks of papers on it, and off the top of one file he grabbed a folder. He sat in his chair, opening the folder._

_Gibbs sat down wordlessly, waiting several moments for the Captain to address him again._

"_Impressive. You've got a good track record, Gibbs. How'd you draw the short straw outta' your old unit?"_

"_My partner took shrapnel to the leg, and so we were down a pair, sir." Gibbs' bright blue eyes looked intently at Malloy. He saw by the look on the older man's face, he understood that without a partner, Gibbs was left in an awkward position with his unit, because all Sniper Scouts worked in pairs. A third wheel…was likely to get injured…or at least disrupt the information flow between teams.._

"_Ok. Well, the men out here need you guys more than ever. Shit goes down at night here…even during the day…and it's hard to tell who's who. We need our Scouts for intel, and to help wipe out the right targets. We all been in a shitty mess out here, some more than once, Gunny. But…I'm sure you know that already, bein' that you were out in Santiago's unit for a few months."_

"_Yessir," Gibbs said quietly, "I do."_

_Malloy threw the folder on his desk, and sat back, looking at Gibbs with a little smile that almost couldn't be read._

"_When it's time to fuck-off, I don't care what you do. Practice, clean your weapon, write a letter, pick your goddamned nose. But you better believe when it's go-time Gunny, you better be everywhere I tell you to be and get the mission done. No fighting or fuckin' around with your unit brothers or your partner. When I tell you to dig in, you do it and do it fast. And you don't shoot until you're cleared hot."_

_Yes sir," Gibbs nodded, still looking the man in the face, "I hear you loud and clear."_

"_You got any trouble workin' with liberal types, Gibbs?"_

_Gibbs frowned for a millisecond. "Ah, no…no sir."_

"_Good. Cos your new partner's a bleedin' heart from New York City. Hope you enjoy working with him since he's your new best friend. His name is Ted Handel. Big s'ombitch. Which is why the other guys haven't kicked his ass already. He's in tent B-3, and you best go meet him now and get settled. We move out foot-mobile tomorrow at oh-three hundred hours, ahead of the other ground troops. When we arrive at the targeted location, we begin recon. Handel has a map for you and will go over it with you. Make sure you stop by provisions and make sure you're tack is set."_

_The silence that followed let the younger man know the discussion was done._

_Gibbs nodded and stood up. "Thank you sir."_

_He hesitated, his eyes catching the tattoos he now noticed on Malloy's arms, both over the deltoids…_

_One was the USMC Eagle & Anchor…but the other…looked to be 5 symbols connected by an upside-down star. The symbols were fairly intricate, within smaller circles, at the tips of the star points. Inside the larger main circle of the upside-down star, was solid black._

"_Anything else, Gunny Sergeant Gibbs?" Malloy asked with a slight twinge of annoyance._

"_No sir," Gibbs said, unwilling to ask his superior any personal questions. "Thank you sir."_


	5. Chapter 5

_The first thing the young Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs had thought when he walked into tent B-3, was that he had come upon a live Sasquatch._

_Ted was 6'4" at least, and was built like a wall. He was sitting on his rack, playing solitaire, and a book lay to the side of the cards – a worn copy of Sartre's "Age of Reason". His hair, or what was visible of it due to the fashionable marine high & tight, was a coppery golden-brown. He was fair, with some freckles, and looked up at Gibbs with bigger than expected grey eyes._

"_Hey," he greeted Gibbs with a rich baritone voice and a smile. He stood up and held his humungous hand, "ya' must be Gibbs."_

"_Yep," Gibbs smiled, and shook his hand. Gibbs had never thought his own hand looked so small before. "And you're Ted Handel right? My new partner?"_

_The man nodded, allowing his arm to drop, and then swept his arm out, "Welcome to our deluxe accommodations."_

_Gibbs snorted, looking at the two lines of cots filling the distance of the tent. "Better'n I'm used to. Where is everybody?" _

"_Oh…" Ted sighed, "they're out doin' a little practice…hard to stay fit here with the sludge they feed us. I mean, if you're gonna' eat loads of carbs, at least it could be a bagel for Chrissake or…pizza. Anyway you know. So they go run around sometimes or practice fight techniques, and occasionally, streak."_

_The more Ted spoke, the more Gibbs could hear something like Brooklyn in his accent._

_Gibbs grinned, "You don't look like you're turning into a shitsack."_

_Ted laughed. "Nah, I gotta' stay on my toes around these freakin' clowns. If you wanna' throw your shit down, that's your rack over there." Ted pointed to the row of cots across from his. "It's the first one. Used to be Jay's…" he trailed off, a little sadly, his eyes darkening._

"_Okay," Gibbs said, and threw his pack down on it. He took off his helmet and laid it on the cot, before turning back to Handel. "I ah…m'sorry about your buddy."_

"_Yeah," Ted said blandly, "so'm I." He sat back on his cot and absently touched the solitaire spread, still unfinished._

"_Guess that's the chance we all take, serving our country," Gibbs said softly, almost to himself._

"_Yeah," Handel sighed with a distinct tone of bitterness in his voice, "right." He looked away from Gibbs, seeming to be thinking about his fallen comrade. After a quick moment, he looked back up at Gibbs, "So, where ya' from, G-2? You and I got lots to learn about each other, seein' as we're gonna' be up each other's aisses 24/7."_

_Gibbs gave him a chuckle and slightly unbelieving look, "G-2 ?"_

"_Well, you don't expect me to say Gunney Gibbs all the time do you ? It's so…freakin'… long. And wierd. It don't really roll of the tongue does it? Besides, could be worse. You could go by my handle."_

"_Handel?" Gibbs asked, smiling?_

_The man let out a loud laugh, "Hah! Nah, though that would be a freakin' improvement. They call me Teddybear. Apparently because I remind them of a grizzly, rather than a stuffed animal. But…still… not so easy to live with. " His large eyes drifted around in his head, thinking. "I would'a been happy with Bulldog or…I dunno, like ANYTHING else…But, hell, Jay had a harder time…he had one of those, like, unibrows…they called him Urban Gorilla. Hah." He smiled a little sadly at that and looked back to Gibbs._

_Gibbs asked warmly, "So whaddy'a want me to call you?"_

"_Teddy's fine."_

"_Ok. Teddy it is," Gibbs said, turning to open his pack. The first thing he always did was check and make sure he had his two pictures of Shannon and Kelly, and the picture of their house. It was important for him to be able to look at them, and remember what he was fighting for._

"_Where you from?" he heard Teddy ask they question again, determined to get to know his fellow Scout, as he shuffled his cards in his giant hands._

_Gibbs ran a gentle thumb over Shannon' s smiling face in the photo he was holding. "Stillwater. Stillwater, PA."_

* * *

Tony was on the phone at his desk, relaying information between McGee and Ziva on the other end, when he saw Gibbs walk back into the bullpen, holding a fresh cup of coffee. Tony caught McGee's slight frown at observing Gibbs . He looked no better after his Fortress of Solitude time in the elevator and outing to the coffee shop…

"Yeah, hold on ZIva… the Bossman just got back," the SFA moved the phone away from his face slightly and looked up at Gibbs, his green eyes tired but glowing in the lamplight. "Ziva and Dorneget found out from neighbors that Colletti's parents go to their place in Florida from early September to May every year. Which explains why no one reported him missing. His car wasn't there. No hits on the BOLO yet. McGee already put a call into Miami/Dade PD to have the parents notified. Hopefully they will come back right away so we can also talk to them, but Miami Detectives are gonna' do the initial interview and keep us informed. Also McCrafty did a little more looking into the parents and they just took out a third number on their cell plan before Colletti came home. That's why we had no number for him initially. But now-"

"We checked into calls made from the third number since he came home," McGee chimed in, getting up to stand next to Gibbs in front of Tony's desk. "Lance Corporal Colletti made calls to only three numbers ; one was to his parents, one in Baltimore to a Michael Sumner, and one to Stephen Carvey in Doylestown PA. We got the addresses for both Sumner & Carvey."

Gibbs nodded, sipping more coffee while he listened.

"We just gave Sumner's address to Ziva," Tony continued quickly, as Gibbs had raised a brow and looked at him impatiently, " so she'n Dorneget could check him out. We figure he was possibly a friend since they're same age bracket. And- should we tell them to get a room Boss ? It's getting late to come back from there tonight..."

Gibbs nodded once.

Tony angled the phone back to his face, "Ok, Gibbs said you can share a room with Dorneget, since you have the hots for him anyway - OW!" the headsmack stung as he looked up to see Gibbs strolling back towards his desk.

"Tell em' separate rooms, DiNozzo," Gibbs said plainly as he turned on his desk lamp.

McGee was trying to control his grin as he returned to his desk as well,giving Tony a raised brow and a low chuckle.

"Separate rooms are fine, Ziva. No…no. Hehe…" Tony laughed a little nervously. Then he said a little more hushed, "No, I like them right where they are Ziva…no, no I will not tell Gibbs you said that to me. Good evening, Agent DA-veed. Tell Netty McGee says hi."

Tony put the phone back on its cradle, and looked up to see both Gibbs and McGee frowning at him.

"What?" he asked innocently. "OK so "Netty" doesn't sound right either."

"I know what you can call him," Gibbs said with a small degree of menace.

"Ahhh…what, Boss?" Tony asked a little fearfully.

"Dorneget."

McGee snorted but then straightened up visibly, when Gibbs glared at him next. "What else McGee?"

"Uh, well, like Tony said – there's no bolo hit on car yet, but there were a few texts that I'm working on getting from the phone company. Since we don't physically have Colletti's cell phone there's a chance the texts might be in the provider system if it hasn't been purged yet...from what I saw so far, his last use of the number was…" McGee looked at his computer screen while clicking away at his keyboard,"...4 weeks ago. And a day."

"Boss-" Tony picked up his phone again, about to ask Gibbs a question, but Gibbs answered it.

"Yeah DiNozzo, tell Doylestown PD to send an unmarked car to check out Stephen Carvey, and to expect two Agents out to work with them. We'll borrow from Tilton's team." Gibbs turned and picked up his phone to call Agent Tilton, as Tony smiled and shook his head as he dialed the number for Doylestown he had pulled up on his screen.

It amazed him how Gibbs could sometimes anticipate what they were going to ask him, before they did it.

Tony was on hold for a bit, waiting to speak to an actual Detective in the Doylestown PD. He sighed, and hummed along to the hold mus-ack (Do You Know The Way To San Jose) and rubbed his eyes, feeling a bit tired. It wasn't even 1700 hours… He glanced over at McGee, who was still looking at his screen and taking a bite out of a candy bar.

He heard Gibbs hang up his phone after finishing his conversation with Special Agent Tilton. He watched the older man suddenly scrub a hand over his face, and blink slowly. Gibbs was clearly feeling a bit drained from the day…and whatever was going on in his head, coffee hadn't cleared it out. Tony realized he was looking at Gibbs too long when noticed ice blue eyes were boring straight into him.

He looked away quickly, turning to his cork-board while a Detective Ellis finally picked up his call. As he explained the necessary details of the case, and read off Steven Carvers address and information, he absently played with the cream colored invitation was tacked to his board with a black skull pushpin. The glittering orange lettering shimmered a little in the light of his desk lamp. As he finished the conversation with the pleasant enough Detective, he realized Gibbs was standing by his desk again. "Okay, Boss, they're all set. I told them Agents from NCIS would be in touch with them again as soon as they neared town."

Gibbs nodded, looking at Tony, and then to the Invite on his board. He tilted his head a little.

"You goin' to that thing, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked with a vague smirk.

_At least he's amused by this,_ Tony thought. "Well…yeah, Boss. I promised Abby. That is, we ALL promised Abby," Tony said, smiling at Gibbs hopefully.

"Nah," Gibbs smiled, "I didn't promise her."

"Boss…this is like, a big deal. She's getting an award." Tony looked at the invitation again, "Even the Sisters are going to be there. And she's obsessed with us all puttin' on the dog for this one. Even Ducky n'Palmer are coming."

The Invitation read :

A Bacchanalia Benefit

for the

Goodman Women's Shelter

October 31, 2012 7pm

A Special Night of Dinner and Dancing

Full costume and masks required (Except for Sister Rosita)

Award Ceremony 9pm

After that Open Bar and DJ

Tickets $65 Please Call 303-652-4499 to reserve

"We can still go right, even if we still have a case?" Tony asked softly.

Gibbs sighed and smiled, "You wanna' dress up in some crazy outfit be my guest, Tony. Not my thing."

"Boss, I think she really wants us ALL there," McGee said bravely, looking at Gibbs.

Gibbs walked over to McGee's desk, just to throw his empty coffee cup into the trash can next to it. "Don't worry McGee", Gibbs said reassuringly. "I'll make it up to her." Then he spun around and strode out of the bullpen calling, "MTAC" behind him.

"You tried, Probie," Tony said. "Gibbs in a mask…well, maybe that's something better _not_ to see. Could give you nightmares."

McGee chuckles, "Yeah, like the ones I'm gonna' have about you after."

"Ha-ha, McFunny. "

"You knw, Abby really mght get upset Gibbs doesn't go," McGee said, worrying.

"I bet you twenty bucks, McGee, that Gibbs sweet talks her out of being mad at somehow. Anyway, by next week, I'm pretty sure we're gonna' need the break…I mean, a little crazy to have a case right out of a 70's horror flick around Halloween...but, Abby's so excited. And it's her favorite holiday."

"They're ALL her favorite holiday," McGee said, "but she really did work hard saving that shelter from closing its doors. You…ah…do you know what you're gonna' wear? Do you have a mask?"

"Sure. I've got several at home."

"Really?"

"No."

"Jackass."

"No, I don't think I have a Jackass mask."

"Tony !"

"What? I'm just pullin' your leg, McGee. Jeeze."

"No," McGee said excitedly, "We got a hit on the BOLO for Colletti's car!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Amuse" was a downtown DC bar/nightclub frequented by assorted military types. It was a well known fact that a woman who liked a man in uniform could find what she was looking for in Amuse's "24 Battalion Bar".

Colletti's car was found outside in the parking lot, with neon red warning stickers on it , threatening tow if the owner didn't remove it. It was clean, by appearances.

McGee had already called a truck to come get it and deliver it to the Navy yard, where Abby could investigate further.

The outside of the club was all dark glass and red up-lighting. Vibrations of dance music emanated through the walls from the inside.

Two large men worked the front door, asking for ID's and taking admission fees, which were $20 for men, and $5 for women.

Interviewing the bouncers yielded no information at all, other than Colletti's car was there for a while and it was annoying. They had been about to give up and call the police to impound the car. The only reason they hadn't thus far was the USMC decal in the window.

"Look at this McGee," Tony said, picking up a drink menu lying on the blue-lit bar. "The "High and Tight Martini", and…the "Ass Blaster"…" Tony looked around the bar as they waited to speak with the bartender. "Now _that _makes me wanna' say, Ooorah," he murmured appreciatively while looking at a sexy twenty-something woman at the end of the bar. She sipped what looked to be a Gin & Tonic while her dark eyes perused the crowd by the dance floor.

"A little young for you, Tony, don't'cha think?" McGee asked with a smile.

Tony turned back to him, annoyed, and opened his mouth to retort, when the bartender appeared.

"Can I help you?" the bartender asked loudly, trying to talk over the music. He was medium height, with sandy hair and brown eyes. By the look of some of his muscle and USMC tattoos, he was either ex military or a major fan.

"Yeah, you can," McGee said, opening up his badge to show the man. "I'm Agent McGee and this is Agent DiNozzo."

The man looked at them seriously, and without hesitation said, "Sure. What do you need?"

Tony held up the picture they had of Lance Corporal Colletti. "Have you seen this man?"

The man took a good look at the photo, taking it carefully in his hand. After a moment, he handed it back. "I'm sorry," he said genuinely, "not ringin' any bells. I'm here five nights a week, and there are two other bartenders that are on the schedule with me. Other than that, you could ask the security staff…"

"And you are-" McGee began.

"Brady Resnick. And I mostly do the scheduling . I can tell you when the other two will be in if you wanna talk to them?"

"That would be good," McGee said.

Brady nodded and said, "Give me a minute, I'll get the schedule." Then he hesitated, turning back to them, "That guy in some kinds trouble? Or is he dangerous or anything, if we should see him?"

"No," Tony said. "He's dead. And his car was parked outside back in your lot for at least a few weeks."

The man's eyes widened. "Ohhh, wow, I'm sorry. We were gettin' ready to give up on the car…that's too bad. Okay, lemme go get the book." He turned and went down the end of the bar and out, disappearing into a door marked "Private".

McGee sighed. "I dunno... I have a feeling that-"

"We're not gonna' get squat outta' this tonight, and Gibbs is gonna' get even wierder?" Tony said dryly.

"Yeah…something like that. I thought he would even come with us."

"Nah, he had to go up to MTAC for more meetings with Vance. I wonder if you can get hypnotized by the twirl of the toothpick on a big screen…"

Tony had been reluctant to leave Gibbs at the office, but they had to check out the car and the nightclub.

"Okay," Brady said, walking back up to the bar with a slip of paper. "Bree works three nights, and Johnnyboy just two right cos' he's in college. But this weekend they're both on cos' right before Halloween everything gets nuts."

McGee took the paper, "Thanks. If we need anything else we'll let you know."

"Sure," Brady said, "anytime." He nodded and then went back down the bar to a woman and man waiting for a drink.

As they left the club, looking around and observing the young men and women, Tony asked, "You wanna' call Gibbs or should I?"

"You like to remind me all the time that you ARE the Senior Field Agent…" McGee said, as they passed through the front door and past the bouncers and line of people waiting to get in.

Tony groaned, though secretly he wanted to check up on Gibbs anyway. It was getting later now, almost 19:30 hours. With Ziva and Dorneget in Baltimore, no one was in-house for the Boss.

He hit speed-dial one.

"_Gibbs."_

"Hey Boss," Tony said, hesitating a moment."

"_DiNozzo."_

"Boss…so far, we interviewed the staff here…and-"

"_No one recognized the picture."_

"No. But we have two Bartenders to come back and talk to this weekend."

The silence stretched on the other end for a while.

"Boss?"

"_Yeah, Tony?"_

"Colletti's car just got loaded up, should be in the Yard within the next thirty minutes." Tony and McGee saw the workmen finishing up with the towtruck and getting in.

"_Good,"_ Gibbs said tiredly. _"Go home. You and McGee. Get some rest."_

"Okay Boss, but what're you-"

The click on the other end signified Gibbs' usual sign-off.

"Not happy, huh?" McGee asked as they got into the car.

Tony frowned, "No…but…he didn't bite my head off like a locust. And…he told us to go home. And get some rest."

McGee started the engine and turned to him, with his pale green eyes opened a bit larger, "That's…a little scary…almost…"

"Nice," Tony finished softly. "Not good, Probie. Not good at all."

* * *

Gibbs took a sip of Bourbon, and picked up the paintbrush he was using to stain the highchair he made for his neighbor's granddaughter. She was young, only twenty-two, and the father of the baby had left her when he found out she was pregnant. Gibbs' neighbor, Emily Rose, was nearly seventy-five years old, taking in her granddaughter when even the girl's parents refused to help. With the baby due in a few months, Gibbs wanted to do something for Emily Rose, and he knew she had always admired his woodwork.

Once upon a time, he had made a similar highchair for his own child. He and Shannon had cleared away many a smashed Cheerio and green pea off that high chair.

His heart still hurt so badly after losing them so many years. He knew he would never be completely rid of the pain, though he could remember some of the good times now and smile again a little.

The explosion several years back with NCIS, and subsequent head injury, had forced him to relive the terrible loss…the memories of getting the news while he was in the mobile hospital unit in Saudi Arabia, recovering from his "accident".

He sighed deeply. Gibbs wished he could remember all the details more clearly.

He could remember some things about his time with Captain Malloy and the Recon Scout Sniper Unit…but…some were fuzzy, And he knew in the pit of his stomach, he needed to remember…the symbols were almost the same, if not exactly so…

(Flashback, Outside Khafji, desert region, Saudi Arabia early Febuary, 1991)

"_**What the fuck is your problem, G2**__?" Roy spat, swinging round but carefully not pointing his rifle at Gibbs. The beam from his flashlight wobbled on the ground and into Gibbs' eyes._

"_We have orders to observe and report, not to threaten teenage girls," Gibbs said in a low steely voice. His hands were on his gun as well, fingers slightly slippery from sweating in the unrelenting desert heat._

"_What the hell's goin' on heah?" he heard Teddy's voice and footsteps in the pebbly sand behind him._

_The young girl, likely no more than fourteen, sat huddled on the ground, large dark eyes wild with fear, and shaking in her underwear. She had taken the rest of her dirty clothes off per Roy's demand at gunpoint, but he was asking for more, and Gibbs knew if he hadn't come into the scene at that moment, the girl could have become victim to Roy's craziness._

"_Roy was just checkin' out this civi," Gibbs said, trying not to think about his own daughter ever being in this situation. "He's about done though, right Roy?"_

_Roy let out a disgusted sound and spat on the ground. "Go on," he said angrily to the girl. "Take your stuff and go."_

_She understood his gestures towards her belongings, which she snatched up, before running into the desert and disappearing into the night._

_He gave Gibbs one long, angry look, before turning wordlessly and heading back towards the makeshift base camp they had dug into._

"_He had to check her out," Teddy said softly. " I mean…there's a lotta' shit goin' down out heah."_

"_Yeah," Gibbs said, still annoyed. "But we should have brought her somewhere. What the hell is she doin' out here?"_

_Teddy shrugged. "I dunno. But we got a few random people just caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not too many though. And the closer we get to pushing these assholes back, the more damage gets done to the towns in between. Thank God it's mostly Desert heah…"_

"_But Roy took it too far. I get checking under the clothes to see if she had anything…weapons or mine-making materials…but there wasn't anything she had in her training bra, man." Gibbs swiped a hand over his damp face._

_Teddy was quiet for a moment. "You think he was gonna…?"_

"_I dunno'." Gibbd scowled, and took off his helmet to relieve some of the heat that was making him sweat through his clothes. "But…I don't trust that guy. He's a loose cannon. And don't even get me started on Stan."_

_Teddy nodded, silently, while watching Gibbs with intensity in his grey eyes._

_Gibb sighed. "What the hell is it with them, anyway? We are Marines, dammit! We are brothers out here, and no man gets left behind. SO what's with this highschool dick click they have goin' on? The other guys are alright…but, the six of them. And the Cap. Those tattoos…"_

"_Don't bring those up," Teddy said in a low, hushed voice._

"_What?" Gibbs asked, suddenly confused._

_Teddy looked around, into the night around them. Gibbs could see the shine of his eyes shifting in the moonlight. Teddy frowned for a moment, and then his posture eased, as if he'd come to a decision._

"_Gibbs," he said quietly, not using the nickname for this urgent moment. "I want you to avoid tangling with them."_

"_Teddy," Gibbs ground out, "that girl-"_

"_I know. I got'cha brotha. I know. You did the right thing stoppin' that. But anything else happens…" Teddy swallowed audibly. "Just… please, you…don't know what yer dealin' with heah."_

_Gibbs grimaced. "Teddy, tell me. I wanna' know what's got you so nervous about them. Listen, I know it's hard out here…but…we're serving our country. And I don't think a Marine does shit like that. A Marine-"_

"_Gibbs," Teddy held a hand up, "I know. But…you gotta' understand…these guys…they're into some weird shit. And the last two guys that went up against em'…we ended up hangin' up their helmets."_

"_John Schaefer ?" Gibbs asked, now getting a bad feeling about what he was about to hear from Teddy._

_The big man nodded meekly. In a hushed, almost whisper, he said, "Johnny didn't die of no "friendly fire" out heah. __**They**__ killed him. One of __**them**__. We're snipers for fucksake. You think any of us make a mistake like that? We weren't even engaged in any action! But because there was no proof or witness and we're out heah…And the guy I came in to replace, Bob Hurley, he dies in a "training accident". He just happened to repel out'va chopper with a faulty rope lock?"_

_Gibbs' mouth dropped open, "Are you shittin' me, Handel?"_

"_No, man. I'm telling you. Those guys are like, Satan worshippers or somethin', and anyone who starts nosin' into it…meets an untimely end. Gibbs…I know we gotta' do somethin' about it, but I dunno' what…and the Cap is one of em' ! I'm not sure he's been part of the…deaths…but…"_

"_Okay, okay Teddy," Gibbs assured him, understanding now there was a much bigger problem going on within the unit than he had suspected. "I'll try to keep my nose clean. But…I can't promise you I won't find a way to blow the whistle on them. Especially if they keep doing crazy shit. But you and I-"_

"_Got eachother's six, G2," Teddy said warmly. "You know if they try anything I'll get into it with you and kick their asses…but, I can't lose anther partner. And definitely not like that. But we gotta' get through this and then see what we can do about them. Can't just prosecute them for being Satanists. Or…whatevahthefuck they are. I mean…religious freedom…kinda what America is about…but when they hurt someone and think that gives em' permission…well it pisses me off." His voice seemed to quiver just a little at that. " You have no idea how much I want proof…of what they did to Schaefer."_

_Gibbs realized his larger-than-life friend, was actually trembling, so he put a hand on Teddy's forearm, giving it a single squeeze. "Alright Teddybear. Alright."_

"Boss?" he heard a voice at the top of the stairs, that broke him out of his memories. And he smelled pizza. And smiled a little.

"DiNozzo, don't you have anything better to do tonight?" he said, as he started to clean up.

Tony walked down the steps in jeans and a tee shirt, looking slightly tired but very intently focused on Gibbs.

"Nah…I ah…just thought maybe you could use some pizza."

"Ah-hah," Gibbs said as he cleaned his brush with turpentine and an old rag.

Tony eyed the highchair for a moment, and walked over to Gibbs' work table in the corner. He leaned against it and said nonchalantly, "And I was thinkin'…maybe…you'd wanna' talk…"

Gibbs stopped what he was doing and looked at Tony, raising a brow.

"Talk?"

Tony smiled, and let out an almost chuckle. "Yeah, Boss. You know. I say words, and then, you say words. And…hopefully…words about what's goin' on in your head."

Gibbs stared at him, with almost no expression.

Tony took a deep breath, "Okaaay," and turned to walk slowly to the stairs. "I could get Abby over and you both could sign…or…Ducky could maybe get some sodium pentathol…"

"No."

Tony turned, and looked crestfallen, as he fleetingly stared at Gibbs. "Uh…okay." He had a pained expression in his eyes, and looking down he spun back around to the stairs. "Sorry Boss, I guess I should just-"

"No, DiNozzo, I meant no Abby and no sodium pentathol. You're right."

Tony had taken two steps before he realized what Gibbs had said. He turned slowly, with both his eyebrows raised, blinking. "I-I…I'm what ?"

"You're deaf, apparently," Gibbs said sourly. He walked over and put a hand on the banister, looking up at Tony with his icy blue stare. "Let's go. Food first. Then beer. Then talk."

"Well said, Boss," Tony smiled, genuinely pleased.


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs sat across from Tony, slowly taking a pull from his beer. The younger man had managed a little over half the pizza himself.

They were quietly drinking at the kitchen table, in amicable silence, as Tony waited patiently for him to speak.

There was a soft "clink", as Gibbs put the beer bottle on the table, and drew a heavy breath.

"It was a long time ago when I saw those symbols, and...my head got scrambled once or twice since..."

"But you did recognize them…the symbols on the body," Tony said slowly, more as a statement then a question.

Gibbs nodded, and looked up at him, "Yeah. It was when I was deployed during Operation Desert Storm..."

Tony tried to mask the sharp inhale as he realized now how complex this really was. His eyes gazed at the older man with compassion, but Gibbs was not one to accept sympathy easily, and he looked away.

Gibbs cleared his throat and continued talking while folding his hands on his kitchen table, and only gazed up occasionally at the younger Agent. He told Tony about being transferred to Malloy's unit, and meeting the Captain himself and Ted Handel, and about the handful of men who seemed secretively protective of each other and their tattoos. And then about the two deaths, that had strangely occurred in a short time span within the unit. He even told Tony of the young girl he'd saved from "Rambo" Roy.

He paused for a little while, seeing Tony's expression drifting towards intense reflection.

"So...the symbols on Colletti's body...are the same? The same as the guys in your unit had in their tattoos?" Tony asked softly while frowning and rubbing the side of his face absently.

"Yes."

"You're sure, Boss? Cos'…that's one _Hell_ of a coincidence."

"Yep."

Tony frowned, and fiddled with his now empty beer bottle. "Colletti being a Scout Sniper, murdered that way...and turning up in your back yard...someone _knew_ you'd be on the case, Boss. " Tony paused for a moment and locked his eyes in Gibbs'. "This could be the beginning of something we don't like. You have to remember everything about these guys, Gibbs."

Gibbs' eyes widened suddenly, glaring at Tony, and he slammed the table with one hand,"Don't you think I **know** that already DiNozzo?"

Tony didn't flinch, but the muscles in his jaw pulsed for a moment. He broke off from Gibbs' angry blue eyes, and got up from the table, and slowly began to pace. He knew this was taxing for Gibbs...in so many ways. "Shannon and Kelly," he began cautiously, not looking at Gibbs, "They were…still alive at that time, which would mean that this all happened...right before you...lost them."

He chanced a glance up, but Gibbs was just looking at the table, one hand still on it clenched in a fist.

Then Gibbs nodded once.

"And you got injured out there in the line of duty...right before you got home. And the memories aren't quite clear...and they hurt." Tony waited a moment to gauge the older man's reaction.

Gibbs suddenly sighed tiredly, and rubbed his face quickly with both hands. With a deep heaviness he said, "There a point you're makin' here, Tony?"

Tony took a breath and sat down again across form Gibbs. He looked at him steadily in the eye. "I want you to tell me everything else you remember until you got sent back stateside."

Gibbs looked up and around the room for a moment, and then nodded. He fixed his eyes on Tony's and said softly, "Okay."

* * *

(Flashback, Outside Khafji, desert region, Saudi Arabia near Kuwait border, Febuary 24, 1991)

_Smoke was billowing from the Iraqi trucks and military transports as they neared._

_Gibbs heard the Cap on his com, "Gibbs, report."_

_"Our fly-boys hit their marks, sir. None appear to have survived." Gibbs watched as some of his unit members approached slowly, and carefully stepped around the debris, which included vehicle parts, and charred bodies. The men warily took in the remains of their enemy, soldiers like themselves. Some had died in place in their vehicles, and some on the ground. Gibbs had about half the unit with him. Their boots almost made no sound as they walked upon the black sand...turned dark by either blood leaking from the bodies or the unfathomable heat of the detonated missles._

_"Keep your eyes open,"Malloy said, "and check every vehicle. Once you are completely in the clear, tell everyone to dig in forty clicks due east. We're gonna' need to move out in a few hours when it's dark. We anticipate meeting some of the enemy forces and our troops need us to be in position to tell them who's who. There've been to many friendly fire for anyone's liking. Everyone needs to look sharp. "_

_Gibbs wondered to himself, not for the first time, if Malloy knew what had happened within his own unit. "Affirmative, sir. We will dig in forty clicks due east."_

_Malloy finished with, "Rambo and Deluca will meet you at the designated area with the other men before we move out."_

_"Affirmative, Sir, " Gibbs repeated into the com._

_From behind one of the burning trucks, Gibbs heard, "Why the fuck would Malloy let him be in charge anyway? G-2's still the goddamned newbie."_

_It was MacLean._

_Michael MacLean, also called "Mac", was one of the "Satanic Six". So was Esteban "Poppy" Gonzalez. Of the nine pairs of Sniper Scouts in the unit, only 3 pairs wore the special tattoos and seemed to generally hate everyone else. He was relieved that the other four, "Rambo" Roy Roth, Ernie DeLuca, Christian Adams, and Stanley Vine, were all out in another location with the rest._

_"Quit your fuckin' whining Mac. There are only so many Gunneys in our outfit. Malloy trusts G-2. And that's good n'uff for me," Teddy's rich baritone chided._

_"Yeah, well, you're a jerk off too, Teddybear," came the almost inaudible response._

_Before it could get out of hand, Gibbs spoke into the com. " MacLean, report."_

_A more professional sound now came out of the Marines mouth, "Can't see anything so far but remains and blown up vehicles, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs."_

_"Poppy?" Gibbs asked next, walking slowly behind them all and smelling burnt flesh._

_"Clear. We smoked these fuckers."_

_"Rivera?" he asked, seeing the movement of some of the men in and out of the smoke moving before him in the wind._

_"Clear."_

_"Schmidt?"_

_"Clear, G-2."_

_"Hicks."_

_"Yeah, clear G-2."_

_"Barnyard?" Dave "Barnyard" Banyon was from rural Tennessee, and knew more about livestock than anyone wanted to. It made Gibbs smile. He was a simple but good kid._

_"Yup. Clear Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs Sir."_

_"Handel?"_

_"Right here," Gibbs heard the voice behind him and grinned. He muted the com and turned to look up at his giant friend. "You're the only one who can do that, and it makes no goddamned sense to me, since you're the Bigfoot around here."_

_"Nah," Teddy said smiling back and lowering his rifle. "You're just distracted by all this power Malloy gave you to run us around like assholes."_

_Gibbs chuckled, "Well, you better get on ahead of me before I show you what abuse of power looks like."_

_"Yes sir, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs!" Teddy saluted him and smiled as he walked past, adding an "Ooo-rah."_

Gibbs paused in the telling, taking a sip from the next bottle of beer Tony had given him in the process.

"So there were six, plus the Captain, Malloy who were into this…Satan thing," Tony said as a quick recap.

"Yeah, but…I dunno' if Malloy really knew how bad these guys were. I mean, if you look into, even a lot of Satanists don't do the shit they did. Most of em' will…I dunno kill a chicken…or throw a curse at someone…something like that, I think. It's the crazy people, like usual, the extremists, who don't do anything but make excuses for acting like animals…"

Tony saw the glaze coming over Gibbs' eyes, and knew this was draining him.

"So…this was coming up on the big push, before the cease-fire, when this all went down," Tony urged him on.

Gibbs nodded, and looked up, "Yeah…and things just got thicker."

_(Night of Febuary 24)_

_Rambo snarled, "What do you fucking know, Barnyard? I don't even think you got any hair on your balls yet boy."_

_The younger blonde-haired Scout from Tennessee held his head up proudly. He leveled a green-eyed gaze at the scruffy looking and older Marine."You got that wrong, Roy. My momma raised me right. I kill cos' I'm doin' a job for my country. Cos' I have to. I don't like it, and I ain't God so I ain't judgin' those Iraqi men. We's on two sides of a conflict. They think they's right too. Lucky for us they ain't got the trainin' we did."_

_Maclean watched with glittering beady dark eyes as the two argued._

_"So if you weren't enlisted…what…you'd just "turn the other cheek"? That what you'd do, Barnyard?" Roy took several steps forward, getting dangerously close to the younger man._

_"That what a good Christian'd do," the younger man said softly, not backing down._

_"Yeah?" Roy growled. "Well…some of us ain't **Christian**. We don't need to turn the other cheek."_

_There was sudden silence, as the two men stared each other down, in the hot desert dusk._

_Just then Barnyard's partner, Jimmy Rivera's voice could be heard, as calm and cool as a still lake. _

_"You got a problem with my boy, Rambo, you got a problem with me. And just because I don't usually pay any mind to your…eccentricities, doesn't mean I won't stick my rifle up your ass and blow your fucking head off."_

_Roy didn't move, but scowled when he heard the words._

_Mac put a hand on his rifle, on the ground beside him, tense and ready to move._

_They heard two sets of footsteps on gravel approaching and all seemed to warily stand down._

_"There a **problem** here?" Gibbs asked plainly, Handel behind him. _

_Handel gripped his rifle, looking at MacLean. Their eyes locked for a moment before turning back to the two Marines facing off before them.  
_

_"No," Roy said, stepping back from Dave Banyon, and still staring at him. And is a softer voice, said, "This ain't over, boy."_

_"Hey!" Gibbs said angrily, stepping towards Roy as the rest stepped back. "I just asked you if you had a problem, Marine !"_

_"Yeah, G2," Roy said maliciously, "And what if I did? You gonna' do somethin' about it? OH, wait, you got your bodyguard with you, so I guess that makes you pretty brave, right?"_

_"Knock it off Roy," MacLean said with subtle urgency. "Malloy will have our asses."_

_Before Gibbs could respond to Roy's comment, Roy quickly said, "You're right. You're right. I'm sorry, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. Must be all the pressure…out here."_

_The tone wasn't really apologetic._

_Gibbs still walked over to Roy, and looked him in the eye. "Mind yourself, Rambo. This unit has had enough losses. I wouldn't want to have to face a review board later because things kept going fubar for the men under Malloy's command. A dishonorable means when you go back stateside, no one will hire you."_

_The threat was now clear. Teddy shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking down at the ground and clenching his jaw_

_Now both MacLean and Roy were gazing at Gibbs with something like pure hatred._

_"I understand," Roy smiled maliciously at Gibbs. "You won't have one more spot o' trouble with me, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. Of that, I promise."_

_Gibbs stared at the man another moment, before turning and walking away, back towards the makeshift camp 30 feet way._

_It was quiet behind him, as Teddy suddenly appeared back at his side, falling into step._

_"I dunno' G2. Ya' might'a screwed the friggin pooch theah," Teddy said tightly, with obvious concern._

_"Yeah. Maybe," Gibbs said, and remained silent as they fell back in to the group where Captain Malloy was getting ready to read the unit in to the mission on deck._

* * *

"That couldn't have been good," Tony said with an attempt at light sarcasm.

"No," Gibbs said thickly."We were close to winning the war," he said softly, with a slightly haunted look in his eyes. He shook his head, with a small bitter smile, looking again at Tony. "So close...but within that next twenty-four hours, things went to shit. And...true to his word, Roy didn't cause me any trouble."

"No," Tony said softly, and almost with fear,"he had one of the others screw with you."

"Yeah. At least...I'm petty sure..."Gibbs pulled a deep breath again, and swallowed, gripping his beer bottle.

Tony licked his lips. "What happened?"

Gibbs sighed, and closed his eyes for a moment. Without opening them, his brows drew together slightly, in concentration. "We saw a lot of action after that, during the big push to drive the Iraqi's back out of Kuwait. We got into the middle of a mess of tanks, and ground troops clashing. Did our best to scope out who was who and report with nightvision, and picked off some of the enemy. MacLean took one to the shoulder. Teddy and I were the first ones to get to him, and got a good look at the tatt then. It was the same as Malloys. The same symbols we saw this morning..." Gibbs frowned a little deeper, and Tony could see his breathing pick up. "We...got him to safety and they medevac'd him out. I went back in with Teddy...and then..." he paused to take a deep breath, opening his eyes and looking Tony in the eyes, "I was a victim of "friendly fire."


	8. Chapter 8

Tony stared at Gibbs, his mouth slightly open. His widened eyes matched the slight crease growing deeper between his brows.

He knew that Gibbs was very proud of being a Marine, and believed fiercely in the standards he judged himself and everyone else by. For someone as passionately dedicated as Gibbs…for this to have happened to him…was almost unthinkable.

Tony swallowed harshly, as Gibbs just stared at him.

The younger man drew a shaky breath, and looked down for a moment, shaking his head. "Jeezus, Gibbs." He scratched his head and looked back up at his friend and mentor. "What…how-"

"Roy told one of them to do it. Maybe even more than one," Gibbs sighed softly. He smiled bitterly and shook his head. "And then the opportunity came up to try and get rid of me during some of the action that night."

Gibbs picked at the label on his beer bottle now, frowning down at it.

"Thing is, I wouldn't have done a damned thing differently...except…"

"Except what?" Tony asked softly.

"Except I _should've_ gone after them. Pressed charges. At least started an investigation," Gibbs said sourly.

"Why didn't you?" Tony asked in surprise.

Gibbs looked up at him, and lifted a brow, a little angrily. Then he looked around the room, seeming a little lost.

Then Tony got it.

"You found out…about…Shannon and Kelly…" Tony said softly, noticing that Gibb's hands were trembling slightly.

The blue eyes finally moved back to meet his face, glittering with a bit of moisture that Tony had not often, if ever, seen. It made him hurt inside for the older man. He wanted to reach out to him, say something comforting, but he knew once again that Gibbs didn't accept such things very easily. So he urged him on, saying gently, "Tell me."

Gibbs blew out a shaky breath, and nodded.

* * *

(Flashback, Military Hospital, Saudi Arabia, Feb 25, 1991)

_Gibbs felt like he was floating at first._

_He could hear voices softly speaking, and other ambient sounds of movement, wheels of carts and trays moving. He couldn't quite open his eyes. He was incredibly tired. And there was a painful throbbing in his brain._

_He tried to move and was rewarded with more pain flashing hotly from his shoulder._

**_What the Hell?_**

_He was trying to get his bearings when he heard bit's and pieces of a conversation somewhere nearby…_

_"…hasn't woken up yet…damage from the bullet…brain swelling…" It was a female voice, and Gibbs was guessing, a nurse, and he was in the hospital. He knew he should have been more alarmed at the words, but he was too sleepy._

_A Male voice chimed in, "The Captain came to see him…seemed to respond a little…coming back…"_

_And then he faded out into darkness._

_The next time he awoke, it was early morning by the light coming into what he could see now, was a makeshift medical cubicle. He was in a bed, hooked up to two IV's. But the good news was there were no beeping machines…no vent._

_He stiffly raised a hand to his face, after trying and failing to use the opposite arm. His shoulder was throbbing like a giant bad tooth, but his head felt a bit better._

_Coming from one of the cubicles to his right, a nurse walked by and caught his movement. She stopped and smiled._

_The petite dark haired woman approached him, "Ah, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, you're awake." She sounded most pleased as she took his wrist, and took his pulse._

_"Unless this is a strange dream," he said a little hoarsely, "I guess so."_

_She looked up at his IV drips, and then back at him. "How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"_

_He looked around, trying to evaluate himself. "Not bad…but my shoulder is killing me. What happened?"_

_"I'll get you something to help with the pain." She looked at him with concern, "Do you remember how you got here?'_

_"I…" he had flashes of images of a firefight in the desert at night…but the headache was starting in again. "I…I'm not so clear…" he looked at her imploringly._

_"Well, you took a round through the shoulder, and got grazed at the left temple by another one. You hit your head at some point, probably from the force of the bullets, and it caused a minor concussion. You should be fine in no time though."_

_Gibbs looked down at his hands, frowning._

_"Don't worry," she assured gently,"you're just disoriented. It'll all come back to you."_

_He looked up at her and was about to ask another question, when someone called out "Nurse!" from another cubicle._

_"I'll be right back with something for your pain."_

_He nodded as she walked off._

_Sighing, he lay back and looked at the ceiling, trying to remember what had happened…but he fell asleep once more.  
_

_The next time he woke up, he was in much less pain._

_And he remembered…_

_**"Teddy!"** he yelled out into the chaos before him. He was crouched behind an abandoned tank. It was dark but for the flash of tanks and guns going off in scattered waves for about a mile ahead of them. Somehow when the bullets sent them running again for cover, he'd lost track of Handel. "**Teddy!"** He would have tried the com, but there was too much chaos coming over it from the other men._

_As he peered out ahead from the back end of the tank, his whole body lurched forward by a shocking, tearing pull through his right shoulder. It was so sudden, he didn't have the breath to cry out. His body twisted and spun around at a strange angle, and he hit his head on the tank._

_The shot had come from behind him._

_He was struggling to clear his vision of the stars that shimmered there. He was dangerously close to losing consciousness._

_In the flashing light of the war going on around him, he could see at a distance, a soldier standing and aiming a rifle at him. He couldn't make out the face, but the silhouette…was familiar…even the stance…_

_Another flash of a tank discharging nearby revealed the desert tack of a USMC soldier. One of his own was trying to kill him.  
_

_As he jerked to move out of the way, he felt another searing pain at the side of his head and face, as a frighteningly loud ping echoed from the metal of the tank he was trying to push himself up from._

_He groaned in pain now, dizzy and nauseous, trying to fight against the crazy tilting of the world around him._

_He raised his rifle, and looked up again, but had no time to try and get sight of the person who was trying to end him. Large hands grabbed him from the other side of the tank._

_**"G2!"** Bellowed Teddy, as he scrambled and dragged Gibbs to the other side of the tank, as two more bullets ricocheted off the metal. **"FUCK ! FUCK! Gunney!** Jeezus Christ Gibbs!" Teddy growled with fear and anger, looking at all the blood the was soaking the top of Gibbs' clothing._

_Gibbs was losing the fight to stay awake, and saw the form of Teddy over him, gravely staring down at him._

_"What, you could wait for me to get into trouble?" Teddy panted out, trying for some gallows humor._

_But Gibbs wanted Teddy to know. No matter what happened…"You're a good man," Gibbs breathed out to his friend, who was pressing down on Gibbs' shoulder wound. He knew he should be feeling more pain from it. He was likely in shock. "And…you're a good Marine, Ted." The words came out as a mumble, though he ried to say them clearly._

_As he began to fade out, he heard Teddy say close to his ear, "Never leave a man behind, Marine. You're gonna make it…you're gonna make it Gibbs…"_

* * *

"God…" Tony shook his head. That's…horrible," Tony said, feeling sick to his stomach. "Who was it ? Are you sure it was one of ours?"

Gibbs exhaled again, and said slowly, "Tony, back then, I was a Marine Sniper with perfect vision. I could shoot a _flea_ off a dog's back at a hundred feet."

Tony nodded, and asked again, "Who do you think it was?'

"I think it was…Ernie. He wasn't an independent thinker type…kissed Roy's ass so thoroughly he was lickin' his tonsils."

"Didn't anyone come see you about it ?" Tony asked.

Gibbs rubbed his hands over tired eyes. As he lowered them, Tony saw the strain in them, the un-shed tears collecting again. "They didn't get a chance. The chaplain showed up later...and told me…" Gibbs was choking on the words. "…told me…"

"That your wife and daughter were dead," Tony said sadly for him, seeing how hard he was struggling with it, even after all this time.

Gibbs nodded, swallowing down the emotions, and looking away again. "After that," he forced out, with a shuddering breath,"It's a blur. I was sent back stateside immediately, never spoke to Malloy or anyone in my unit again. And…" he looked up at Tony, with pain radiating from him, "and I know it's…not right…" his voice became almost impossibly soft. "I didn't care. None of it mattered anymore. They didn't matter to me…I just…came home…and started drinking…"

"And plotting revenge, when you found out about Reynosa," Tony stated calmly.

"Yes."

Gibbs looked impossibly pale and even a little drawn.

"I think…under the circumstances, it's understandable, Boss. It had to have been…hard as Hell, to come back like that. It was a bad place to be. And …I'm…Jeezus...I'm sorry that we need to drag it all up…but we need to start tomorrow looking into everyone in your unit, especially those assholes." Tony felt something like rage taking him over, that someone had done that to Gibbs, and for all practical purposes, gotten away with it.

Gibbs looked up, almost rolling his eyes at himself. "I can't believe I managed to…forget…or maybe ignore it…I _know better_, Tony."

"Boss," Tony said, strongly, so that Gibbs looked at him. "It only means you are human. Contrary to what you lead us to think most of the time. And what you went through…" Tony shook his head again, "was so wrong...I don't know many people who would have gone back to revisit that mess when it's tied into such a…loss."

Gibbs nodded, almost gratefully, but said nothing.

Just then, the front door opened, and they heard, "Gibbs! Tony! Gibbs ! Tony! _Gibbs-Gibbs_! _Tony-Tony_!" Abby's voice sang out and was like an energy blast even before she made half way into the living room.

Gibbs suddenly smiled and shook his head as he heard her skitter for the basement door. It would the usual for her to think they were in the basement.. "Abby, in the kitchen."

The clomping, jingling footsteps ran back as she stormed the kitchen, "Hihihihi!" and quickly jumped around the table kissing each one on the cheek, and rubbing away her black lipstick as they smiled.

It was a welcome break from the serious discussion.

As if on queue, she said, "Before I can have _fun_ visit time, I just have to tell you a little something about the footsteps from the woods."

Gibbs raised his brows expectantly.

"Okay," she said, barely catching her breath as she removed her black poncho and draped it over the chair she pulled out to sit down in. Tony got up to get her a beer as she continued," There were, in fact, six pairs of footsteps. Three male, and three female. All barefoot. Which, in itself is…odd. But anyway, you know, footprints, are as unique as fingerprints. Though, of course, we can't run them because…well, law enforcement doesn't take footprints because people don't usually commit crimes with their feet. Well, they do technically use their feet in the process…I wonder if anyone _has_ actually killed someone with their feet-"

"Abby!" Gibbs said in slight exasperation.

"Thanks," she said, as Tony took the opportunity to hand her the beer bottle.

"So," Tony said, "Cinderella."

"For the Masquerade Ball ? I don't think Cinderella would work for me Tony, I mean, she's all…nice," Abby wrinkled her nose and scowled at the SFA.

He and Gibbs stared at her for a moment.

"OOOhhhh," she said, smiling, glancing back and forth between them. "Yes. Cinderella, as in matching the shoe, or in this case, the foot that fits the print."

Tony smiled, "Well hopefully, at some point, we will have a suspect who fits one of those prints."

"Yes," Abby said curtly, and took a sip of beer.

"What else Abby?" Gibbs asked intently.

"Nothing yet," she said.

"You could have called and told me that," Gibbs said plainly.

"I could have, yes. But…" she looked at him almost shyly, "I was a little worried about my silver-haired fox."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, murmuring, "M'a big boy Abs," as he got up from the table to get another beer.

She passed a questioning glance at Tony. She knew when she saw how pale Gibbs was, and the two men sitting at the kitchen table, something intense had been going on.

But Tony thought Gibbs had had enough for the night, and they would need to go over it all again in the morning at the Navy Yard anyway.

So he mouthed "Tomorrow," to her, and she nodded in compliance.

"So," Tony said out loud, "When does the fun part begin?"

"Now," she grinned, "cos' we're gonna talk about my big night, the Bacchanalia. And what we're gonna' wear. And what Gibbs is gonna wear."

Gibbs' head shot up as he sat down with his beer. "No." His blue eyes looked steely, knowing he had to ready to say no at least several more times.

"Awwww!" She lightly stomped her boot under the table, and Tony was tempted to chuckle. "C'mon Gibbs ! You have to go! You have to!"

"No Abs, I don't," he said quietly, but firmly.

"But Gibbs," she put on her best pout, "It's a big night for me…I want you to be there."

The older man sighed, looking at her and said again,"No."

She made a funny, annoyed, pouty-scrunchy face.

"But," Gibbs said, "I have something for you." He smiled faintly as he got up, "I'll be right back."

While he was out of the room, Abby turned her light eyes on Tony, and played with her pigtail. "So…how bad is it?"

Tony's amused smile at her ribbing Gibbs to go to the Masquerade faded, "The phrase, 'Fucked-Up' barely covers it. But…leave it til' tomorrow Abs. You'll get the skinny in the morning. Kay'?"

"Okay," she nodded. She couldn't help pushing to know what was going on with her Gibbs.

Gibbs walked back into the kitchen with a brown cardboard box. It was about two feet long by a foot wide. He placed it gently on the table in front of Abby, and sat down again with his beer.

"For me?" she asked, already excited.

Gibbs just smiled and nodded once, and took a sip of his beer.

She wanted to tear into it- they all knew it. But she made herself gentle, since she had no idea what it was.

She lifted the box lid, as Tony peered in curiously.

She parted the glittered, aqua blue tissue paper, and her hand went to her mouth in surprise. With wide eyes she looked up at Gibbs. "Ohhhh myyyyy Ghoooood," she moaned, "this is _SO BEAUTIFUL_."

Gibbs looked very satisfied with her reaction, as she looked down again and carefully removed the object from the box.

"Wow, Abs!" Tony exclaimed, amazed by the intricacy and beauty of the mask she held up, first to stare at, and then held it against her face by it's golden, jeweled handle.

It was golden leather, with black swirls and topaz gem accents. Two swans made up the construct of the mask, stylized and richly decorated. The eye openings were formed by the graceful arches of the necks of the swans. It was complex, but very tasteful, and supremely glittery.

She said, "How do I look?"

"Mesmerizing," Tony said, smiling ear to ear with loving amusement in his tone.

She put the mask down, back gently into the box, and laid it back on the table. Wordlessly and with tearing eyes she jumped up and leaned over to hug Gibbs. "It's beautiful!" she sobbed into his neck, as he smiled, looking at Tony and patting her back. "A-and…it's Italian…"she squeaked.

"Hey, I'm Italian. You don't cry like that over me," Tony said indignantly.

"Maybe you ought to cover yourself in sparkly stuff, DiNozzo," Gibbs chided.

"I believe you have gotten yourself a pardon from going to the shindig, Boss," Tony smiled.

"Totally," Abby sighed, still hugging Gibbs. "Totally pardoned."

Gibbs raised a brow in question, while Abby continued to hug and now kiss Gibbs head as he tried to escape.

Tony smiled smugly,"Probie owes me twenty bucks."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I DO apologize for the long time gap since my last chapter. My intent is no more than 10 days- but a vacation followed shortly by Hurricane Sandy created a little...lag. Please forgive. I got my feet wet again with this chapter - but more will be coming this weekend because things are going to get a little more...interesting...and we have the Bacchanalia to look forward to...

* * *

Gibbs got in the next morning, at 06:00 because his restless mind would only allow him a few hours of fitful sleep. The dreams had been layered with the stress of his last days in Saudi Arabia, and the images shifted and morphed with the grief and fury he experienced losing his family. Shannon was reaching… calling for him to help her, and Kelly screaming "Daddy" over and over…visions of their deaths, he thought he had gotten past, had crept back out of his subconscious to shred and claw at his heart.

He was looking forward to sitting at his desk with his coffee and making an outline plan for the team to start with. He couldn't let the lack of sleep caused by strange disjointed nightmares push him off his A-game.

And more than that.

He needed to prepare himself to _tell_ the story again. His story again, to Ziva and McGee and Abby…and probably Ducky. He felt sick. He was a private person to begin with, but to lay all this bare…

"Suck it up, Marine," he hissed at himself as he walk into the building from the damp chill outside.

He was more than annoyed when he reached his desk to find Fornell, sitting comfortably with feet up and eyes closed. Napping.

"Well," Gibbs scowled as he took off his raincoat, "As usual, you look very comfortable taking my spot." He placed his coffee down on the desk, seeing a thick folder was lying on top of his keyboard.

"You talkin' bout' your desk ? Or Diane?" Fornell smiled, cracking one eye open as he began to stretch.

"Both, Tobias, though I think I'm happier with the desk anyway."

Fornell snorted, and gave Gibbs a smile, "Desk is definitely more stable." He slowly stood and stretched.

"What are you doing here?" Gibbs asked curiously, and then glanced at the folder. "It's not my birthday," he attempted some dry humor.

"No," Fornell said, picking up the folder, "but here's a present anyway." He gave Gibbs a serious look as he handed it to him.

Gibbs took it wordlessly, and perused some of the pages. When he realized what he was looking at, the images, the symbols on dead bodies, the gnawing he had in his gut since they started the Colletti case worsened. He looked at Fornell sharply.

"How many," Gibbs asked in a low, almost deadly tone.

Fornell saw something in his friend's steely blues he rarely saw…it was anger…mixed with…fear.

"Why do I have a feeling we need to talk?" Fornell asked softly, his gaze never wavering from Gibbs'.

Gibbs repeated, "**How many**, Tobias?"

"Four," he sighed, "Including your man. I heard about your case on Colletti and it rang a bell…so I got the files for you. Maybe…it'll help nail the sick sonofabitch who killed the others."

Gibbs facial muscles ticked ever so slightly as he grimaced. He had noticed a common current in the files even at that first glance. "They were all law enforcement ?"

"Yes. All LEO's. One found in Anaheim two years ago. One in Colorado a year ago. One in Chicago six months ago. And your man. All killed the same way with those odd markings burnt into their skin. All overloaded with MDMA. No prints. No evidence other than the body. No sexual assault. No motives other than they busted criminals and did their jobs. But the difference is- they were all found in public parks. Not private property. And none were military until yours. A marine sniper. Dead. In your backyard." Tobias continued to eye Gibbs but his friend was looking down at the folder in his hands.

"So?" Fornell asked, reaching down to take hold of the coffee sitting on Gibbs' desk.

"Thanks," Gibbs said plainly, and took the coffee before Fornell could, walking behind Fornell to take his seat.

"That's all I get? Just a thanks and not even a sip of coffee?"

"Some things are sacred, Tobias. I don't share everything, not even with you," Gibbs said, taking a sip and looking up at Tobias. He was trying to be his normal self…but he knew his tone was falling flat.

"Gibbs," Fornell clutched his heart, "You wound me." He waited and saw Gibbs didn't smile at all. In fact he seemed to be getting lost in his thoughts looking back down at the folder in his hand.

"Jethro," Fornell said softly.

After a moment, "Jethro," more loudly as Gibbs suddenly looked back up at him. He frowned in genuine concern. "What the Hell's going on?"

"Tobias," Gibbs said tiredly, "I wish I knew."

* * *

When Tony arrived at 07:00, he saw Gibbs and Fornell chatting. Gibbs looked even more exhausted than he had the night before, if it were possible. He was speaking quietly, looking up at Fornell from his chair, as the other man leaned against the cubicle, arms crossed over his chest and looking at his feet. Fornell seemed to be tense, and listening closely.

Tony gave a soft, "Good morning gentleman," as he dropped his pack down and took his coat off. He wanted them to know he was there, so as not to surprise them out of their intense conversation.

"DiNuzzo," Fornell said curtly, only giving him a brief glance up. Then he looked down and told Gibbs, "Whatever we can do, whatever I can do to assist and expedite the research in finding these sorry excuses of men, you let me know Jethro."

Gibbs sighed, and Tony knew it must be taking everything out of him to recount the details of the story. He wondered why Gibbs was telling Fornell, though. Something must have happened.

Tony approached them. "Boss?"

When Gibbs turned and tiredly asked, "Yes, DiNozzo?" he could see the red in the whites of the older man's eyes.

Tony glanced at the folder, and then at Fornell, who raised a brow at him. Tony put it together.

"There were others, just not military," he stated.

"Yes," Fornell nodded, "three others. Gibbs has the file copy on everything we have. They were unsolved, no real leads. Dead ends. But…maybe there will be something in there to help. And now that I know…" he trailed off, looking worriedly at Gibbs.

They were both looking at him like that, and suddenly it made him boil. He stood up abruptly and got his coat. "Going for coffee." He pushed out as he briskly passed Tony without looking at him.

They both watched him as he stormed out to the elevator.

Fornell looked at Tony.

Tony cleared his throat, "He ah…told me about the possible connections last night."

Fornell nodded.

"He's gonna make up the list of names he can remember, and we're gonna look up the rest," Tony said, not even sure why he felt the need to explain anything to Fornell.

"Okay," Fornell said matter-of-factly, while pushing off the cubicle wall to stand straight. "You have enough manpower to chase all that down while you're still investigating Colletti ?"

Tony was momentarily thrown, but then said "I'm sure Vance will see to it-"

"DiNuzzo," Fornell held a hand up, "I made the offer to help on behalf of myself and the Agency. We have three unsolved cases. Plus…Jethro is my friend."

Tony looked at him for a moment, and then nodded, "Okay. As long as Gibbs is good with it."

Fornell looked around for a moment, seeing more employees starting to filter into the office. "Maybe…you could-"

"Get everyone together and tell them the basics so Gibbs doesn't have to run through the same thing, over and over…?"Tony raised a brow and smiled.

"Well, yes. I guess I can see why he keeps you around, Tony." Fornell smiled, while getting his coat. "Tell Jethro to call me later with that list and copy us the Colletti case files if you wouldn't mind." Fornell walked towards the elevators, turning back only once to look at Tony gravely, "Keep an eye on him, I've got a bad feeling about this."

Tony nodded and the FBI Agent walked off, while Tony muttered to himself, "You're not the only one."


	10. Chapter 10

"Abby?" Tony called softly.

Everyone in the Lab was looking at her.

Once McGee, Dorneget, and Ziva had arrived at their desks, Tony called them to go with him to the Lab, along with Ducky, to give them an unofficial briefing on Gibbs' possible connection to the murders.

They all looked various degrees of sickened, and sad.

Dorneget was speechless and just shook his head.

Ducky looked downright livid.

But Abby, she was the one who now had tears streaming from her darkly lined eyes.

She just kept picking angrily at the hem of her little plaid skirt with trembling hands. Ziva, who was a little misty herself, put a comforting hand on Abby's back to rub circles on it.

"How could they be like that?" Abby asked, her gravelly voice lower and more furious than they had ever heard it. She looked up at Tony with tragic eyes. "How could anyone be like that ? I mean, they…they're supposed to be like brothers. No man left behind, right ? Gibbs even helped save one of them."

"Yeah Abs," McGee said softly, sighing deeply, "They are supposed to be like brothers... but you know, some people…don't play by the rules…and even in a position where they could do good, they hurt people instead. Military men are just as likely to have …issues…as other guys…"

"Well…m-maybe not…devilworship issues…" Dorneget offered thoughtfully. "I think those might be a little less common."

McGee just raised a brow at him in mild annoyance.

"They're not all like Gibbs, Abs," Tony added.

"Indeed," Ducky spat. "These… disgraceful men should be found, and drawn and quartered. Not only did they betray their own men, but the uniform itself. A shame…so many good men and women protect our country, and then to have these extremely rotten apples spoiling the bunch…"

"Why did Gibbs…" Ziva began, and then caught herself.

"What?" Tony asked, as small sniffles continued from Abby, as scrubbed at her face and tried to calm herself.

"Well…" Ziva's dark eyes trailed around the lab for a moment. "I do not understand why Gibbs did not pursue this…"

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but Ducky jumped in.

"My dear Ziva, Jethro gives everyone the impression of being… emotionally unshakeable," his tone was still tense, but gentled as he gazed at her, "but imagine, if you will, waking up in a military hospital, alone, wounded, disoriented, only to find almost immediately after-"

"That your wife and daughter are dead," Gibbs softly spoke the horrible words, as they spun around in surprise at his presence.

"Boss, I-" Tony began, but Gibbs held up a hand.

"S'okay, Tony." He took a breath and looked at all of them, saw the grief and determination shining in their eyes.

"B-Boss…I…"McGee blurted out, frowning, "I wanna'…nail those dirtbags…whether or not they are part of this case…"

"Yes," Ziva said, her dark eyes filled with something akin to murder, "We should make them pay."

Now Gibbs was holding both hands up, "Okay, okay, I appreciate…your…enthusiasm, but …we already have one murder to solve. I was just in MTAC and cleared with Vance how this is gonna' go."

Tony took a step forward, green eyes bright and speaking in a low tone, " We _are_ gonna' hunt every one of those guys down, aren't we Boss?"

Gibbs stared at his SFA for a moment, and then gave him a proud, bare hint of a smirk. "Yeah, we are. But, with a little help. This will be a joint investigation with the FBI. "

They all started talking at the same time, even Abby, all wanting to be the ones to help Gibbs get the justice he deserved and help solve the murders.

He let them go for a moment, while Ducky gave him a knowing smile, and then Gibbs whistled loudly for silence.

They immediately became silent, looking at Gibbs in surprise.

"Ziva, you, Dornegat, and McGee are going to continue on the Colletti case, but every move gets reported back to me and DiNozzo. Fornell's people are going to chase down every man from my old unit, and report directly to DiNozzo, unless urgent information comes forward."

"Me, Boss?" Tony asked, confused.

Gibbs looked at him and snorted, "Yes, you DiNozzo. It's a conflict of interest for me to be involved on that end, which is why I will continue to work with Ziva and McGee on Coletti…in a purely…supportive manner."

Tony broke out into a grin, until Gibbs said "BUT, you WILL keep me informed, every step of the way, you got that DiNozzo?."

"Ah, okay Boss," Tony said, now a little puffed up with his expanded role. "Does Fornell-"

"Yes, DiNozzo" Gibbs said a little tiredly, "he has been informed, and also I had our case files faxed over to him."

"Bet he was happy about that, huh Boss?" Tony asked, as Gibbs stared at him. "I mean, you know, having to call me first…it's just…kinda…" He realized Gibbs was not smiling. "Ok," he said, turning on his heels, "Going to work."

Gibbs motioned for Ziva, Dorneget, and McGee to follow, and they both nodded, but unsure of what else they could say, they loitered for a moment uncomfortably.

"Duck_" Gibbs began, but the ME knew what was coming.

"I will go and send my findings on Lance Corporal Colletti's autopsy to Fornell's office," and nodded at Gibbs. He turned to go also, but leaned back for one moment, giving Gibbs a meaningful look. "And Jethro…we should talk. Later."

Gibbs swallowed and nodded once, watching as the ME turned and left the Lab.

Gibbs then turned to Abby to ask her if she could email her lab reports, but she took advantage of his brief pause to pounce on him, and throw her arms around him.

"Gibbs…Gibbs…" was all she could choke out.

Gibbs looked very annoyed at first, rolling his eyes, but then felt her trembling, so put his arms around her and breathed, "Okay, okay," into her hair.

Noticing Ziva, Dorneget, and McGee were still there, he growled at them, "Get to work!" And they scampered out.

* * *

Three days had passed.

Team Gibbs followed up with Colletti's family, and friends. Nothing pointed to any known enemies. They went back to the nightclub, Amuse, which also proved fruitless.

It was as if aliens had abducted Colletti before his body was found.

Abby discovered that the blood found in Colletti's stomach was, in fact, from a young female, though it could not be ascertained if it was from someone as young as thirteen or up to their early twenties.

Tony got reports each day from Fornell, as the FBI got intel and then direct contact with some of Gibbs' old unit.

Each day it seemed Gibbs was more muted than usual, but he was extremely aware and involved with all the information coming in.

The team tried to tread carefully around him...only asking him questions about the past when necessary. Which annoyed him to no end.

Captain Kenneth Malloy, on top of the list, had died of a very aggressive cancer five years ago, leaving behind his wife Agnes, and two sons, Matthew and Simon. They lived in the DC area, which was of noteable coincidence, but since Malloy was dead, was not top priority over finding the other men.

They were highly focused on the "Satanic Six", and so far of the names on that list, two more, Christian Adams, and Stan Vine, had passed away, one due to congenital heart failure, and one found to have overdosed in a hotel room only two years after coming home from the Middle East.

Fornell and two of his men arrived on Friday afternoon, with a very disheveled man in a leather coat and jeans. The man had dark beady eyes, which peered out from under bushy, greying eyebrows. His expression was thunderous as he complained.

"I said I would cooperate, but this is ridiculous. If you guys aren't gonna' tell me what the hell this is about, I'm gonna' get a lawyer and sue you for harassment."

Fornell ignored the man and smiled at Tony. "DiNuzzo, I believe you have room in suite number one to make Mr. Roth comfortable while you chat with him?"

"Yes," Tony said with a mildly, looking the man with an unreadable expression, "I believe we have plenty of room," and turned to lead them to Interrogation.

They ushered him through the bullpen, without him noticing the ice cold blue eyes on him. Gibbs, along with Ziva and McGee, watched them pass.

Gibbs joined Fornell in observation as Tony went into the room, pulling out a chair to urge Roy to take a seat.

"Was nice for you to bring me another present, Tobias," Gibbs said quietly, studying a much older, and pot-bellied Roy Roth.

"Yep. And this time you could at least buy me coffee," Fornell retorted.

Tony sat down with his folder, not even looking at the man, for quite a while.

Roth became quickly agitated by the silence.

"Just what the hell is his about?" the man asked angrily, shifting his position in his chair. "Do I need a lawyer?"

"Depends on whether or not you're guilty of something, doesn't it," came Tony's almost bored sounding reply.

"I'm outta' here," the man said angrily, standing to leave.

Tony said, "Fraid' not "Rambo"," and the man stopped to look at him with narrowed eyes. "You see, we can still hold you for another twelve hours before we cut ya' loose. You can either agree to talk, or I can consider you hostile. Which in the long run, makes your case worse."

"What case?" he asked warily, but sat down again.

"There are actually four," Tony smiled like a Cheshire Cat.

The man's eyes widened.

"I want a lawyer. Now."

"Well, I take that as you are pretty darn guilty, Roy." Tony smiled at him. "But sure you'll get your lawyer." Tony nodded towards the glass, and Gibbs nodded to the technician to call someone from legal down to deal with Roth.

Tony continued, " In the mean time, maybe you can tell me what you know about these."

Tony pulled an array of photos from his folder, of the symbols found burned into Colletti's body.

The man's beady eyes drifted onto the images, and once he realized what they were, his mouth hung open in shock.

He looked up at Tony, "Where…did you get these from?"

"I have a better question, Roy. You still got your tatt ?" Tony asked and tilted his head.

Roy absently rubbed his arm and nodded. "Yeah.. I…what's going on here?"

Tony looked at him for a moment, all humor gone from his face. "You tell me."

Tony produced photos of the two dead Marines from long ago, along with one of Gibbs. And then one of LC Colletti.

"I don't know what'cher lookin' for," Roy said, clenching his meaty hands into fists under the table. He refused to look at the photos.

"Oh, come on, Roy. At least look at these. I mean, you did know them, right ?"

"What the Hell do you want from me?" the man shouted and jumped up from his chair. "Am I under arrest?"

Behind the glass Fornell snickered, "This one's easy."

Gibbs just continued watching.

Tony calmly folded his hands on the table. "If necessary, I can keep you here much longer than twenty four hours since you were directly involved with these men at the time of their deaths. We're also chasing down your buddies from back in the day. You know, the ones you shared that special tattoo with. You can cooperate though…it would save a lot of trouble. Just tell us why you did it."

"Did what?" he almost shouted down at DiNozzo.

"KILLED THEM!" Tony stood up, pointing at the photos.

The man clenched his jaw, furious.

"I didn't! This is crazy! I had nothing to do with them!"

Tony stood now, pointing to the photos, "C'mon Roy! All four of these guys! WHY?"

"This guy ain't even dead!" he shouted, picking up Gibbs' photo and shoving it at Tony. "What kinda game are you playing?"

Tony raised a brow, "So you know who this guy is?" holding up Gibbs' picture a bit higher.

The man sat down with a huff. "I ain't talking anymore without a lawyer."

Tony nodded cursorily and said, "Of course. We already have someone coming down to help you arrange it.

Without another word, Tony collected his file and walked out.

The man ran a shaking hand through his hair, looking completely unnerved.

"DiNuzzo really rattled his cage," Fornell said almost in admiration.

"Oh yeah," said Gibbs, still staring at the man alone at the Interrogation table. "DiNozzo squares em' up pretty fast. Now all we need are his pals to join the party. If they're anything like him, it'll be like dominoes."

"Workin' on it Jethro," Fornell said. "We got a solid lead on McLean, and DeLuca."

Gibbs looked at him in surprise.

"We're bringing them in between tonight and tomorrow."

"That's good work, Tobias."

"What can I say Gibbs?" Fornell asked as he opened the door to leave. "I'm inspired."

Gibbs finally smiled at him with a soft snort, before turning back, to stare just a bit longer, at a living piece of his own personal nightmare.

* * *

One hundred and seventy miles away from DC, in a damp, dark room lit by candles, he passed his fingers over the photograph.

There was G2. A lot older of course, than the last time he had actually seen him.

He was smiling.

_Smiling._

He didn't deserve to smile, did he ? All these years…he'd been smiling. Probably laughing at what he had done.

What he had gotten away with.

Well, that was fine.

Soon, the Master would make all things right again.

Satan had never abandoned him, and would see to it justice was meted out.

Satan, and his Angels, would help bring victory.

But not only that…

He looked at the other people in the photo. They were celebrating…something…

One of them would be the vehicle that served all purposes.

He smiled, now gently scratching at the glittering invitation lying on the table next to the photo.

One of them would be the final sacrifice before he took down Gibbs.

And by the time it happened, Gibbs would wish he had died first.


	11. Chapter 11

They had established the fact that Roy Roth knew Gibbs was still alive, but there was no evidence in his car or home that proved any connection to the Colletti murder, or the other ritual killings. There was enough record giving him clean alibi's for being nowhere in the vicinity at the time of each.

It had actually taken another day for Fornell to stride smugly in to NCIS with McLean,the now balding man dressed in his suit (he had become an insurance salesman after the Gulf War), was followed in shortly by other agents escorting DeLuca.

DeLuca had aged a bit more gracefully, and was a thin, sinewy man with salt and peeper wavy hair. He was in a more casual sweatshirt and fatigues.

As Tony gave them both a cursory greeting and then ushered them into separate interrogation rooms, Gibbs sat, once again unnoticed at his desk, impressed that Tony had suggested allowing these men a glance at each other.

The mutual shock and surprise after so many years did not go unnoticed.

As they all disappeared around the hallway, McGee said, "You think they were involved with Colletti, Boss?"

Ziva looked on curiously for Gibbs' reply.

Gibbs stood up to go join Fornell once again in observation. "Dunno', McGee. We'll see." Gibbs caught Ziva looking at him. "_Yes_, Agent Da-veed?"

"I was just wondering if-"

"No," Gibbs said with a slight smile.

"But you did not _allow_ us to observe Tony's interview with Roth _yesterday_, and-" her tone had an almost pouting quality to it.

"We need to keep them _alive_, Ziva," Gibbs said and walked out of the bullpen.

She looked at McGee. She stood up with a hand on her hip. "This, is…completely unfair. Why does Gibbs think that I, trained in Mossad, can not keep my self control? That I would automatically go off half-crocked?"

McGee looked at her, with his very intelligent pale green eyes and smiled, "Ah, I think you mean, half-cocked, Ziva. And it's because we ALL wanna' kill those guys, for what they did to Gibbs. But we _are_ Federal Agents, and have to support due process. Even though we feel differently."

"Truedat, McGee," said Abby, strolling into the bullpen. "I've been devising all kinds of slow death methods for each one of them that would leave no trace to us."

McGee chuckled. "And how many did you come up with Abs?"

She grinned at them both, "Nine. Well- ten, but the tenth one involves imported frogs and …that might not be as easy to arrange."

"Sometimes, Abby," Ziva said with a dark smile, "I really like the way you think."

* * *

In Observation, they watched Tony play Mike McLean like a Stradivarius.

Fornell was even grinning at the way McLean was becoming a basket case. He was the one out of the three so far wound tight, in his suit and practical glasses. He had taken them out and compulsively cleaned them for several minutes while Tony interviewed him. Once he had put them on, Tony went for the kill.

"We have Roth. And DeLuca. And they are talkin' up quite a storm," he said, opening his folder to produce the four photos again.

Gibbs thought again about how sharp Tony was, mixing the past with one of the present cases, and presenting Gibbs as dead.

"I told you, Agent DiNozzo, I don't know who any of those men are," the man's voice had a tinny effect, maybe from the nervousness he was trying to cover up. "Besides, you only brought DeLuca in today with me, right? So what could he have said?"

Tony laughed and sat back in his chair. "Right. We wouldn't have, interviewed him on the way in, or at his home. And by the way, we had enough reason to get a judge to sign a warrant to search your homes and cars." Tony hadn't lied about that. The FBI searches were in progress. "Now, listen, Mikey, I think you need to tell your side of the story." Tony perused his folder again. "Wouldn't your…wife and kids rest better knowing you did the right thing? At the moment, they have no idea why their home is being searched, and why Daddy is talking to NCIS."

"Leave them out of this ! I dunno' what you want me to say. I _don't_ know what this is about, Agent DiNozzo !" The man looked near hyperventilation.

"You know," Tony's voice got louder as he stood up, pointing at the photos, "_exactly_ what this is about. You and the other "DevilDogs", the ones in your tattoo click."

The man looked suddenly shocked and paled.

"That's right _Mac_. That's what they called you right? You wanna tell me why you killed these men? Since apparently, you're gettin' thrown under the bus here by the other guys."

This was dicey. If Tony gave away too much info, these men could work it against him and simply continue to deny knowledge. To little, and they would think NCIS really knew nothing anyway.

The man was now almost green. Of the three brought in, this man had the most to lose.

He swallowed sharply, and took off his eyeglasses to clean them compulsively again. "Okay…" he sighed. I'll tell you…but you have to promise my wife and family never know about this."

"No promises yet, Mac. We'll see after you start talkin'." Tony looked at the man with ice in his green eyes and sat back in his chair.

Gibbs and Fornell held their breaths.

Could it be this simple?

"Back then…I was pretty young. And…pretty stupid. Yeah, I got the tattoo. And I was part of Rambo's pack."

"Not Malloy's pack?" Tony interjected.

"Malloy? No. I mean, the Cap was the one who shared the teachings with us, with Rambo. But…that was just…I dunno. We were stupid…"

"Explain," Tony said softly.

"Well, Malloy…was a good Captain. He was a good leader. His beliefs were very deep and all about the Satanic Bible…but after he tried to teach us I guess he got kinda…disgusted, because, let's face it. We were kids. Into metal music. In the Marines. In a War. It was more a vehicle for us to get hepped up…a way to cope maybe…" the man stopped cleaning his glasses again and put them on. "Rambo…took it to another level…"

After a silence, Tony leaned forward and said, "Explain, Mac. All of it. Every detail. And tell the truth, because based on what the other guys are saying, it doesn't look so good for you right now."

The man actually bit his lip. He looked almost fearfully at Tony. "If I…tell you everything…can you…protect me? Me and my family?"

Gibbs and Fornell were now riveted to every word and motion made between this man and Tony.

"Yes. We can. If necessary. But we can't protect them from you going to prison for murder."

"**I DID NOT KILL ANYONE**!" He yelled hotly, swiping at his now sweating face with a shaky hand. "_THEY_ DID !"

"Who?" Tony pushed.

"Rambo. And maybe…DeLuca."

"Explain the maybe."

"This guy here," McLean pointed a trembling finger at, "his name was Hurley. He…he got into some disagreement with Rambo…and…Rambo…he…" the man was struggling.

"What did he do?" Tony said quickly.

"He rigged Hurley's gear so he would fall during helicopter training. I know he did it, because he bragged about it after." The man swallowed again, and they could see a vein standing out in his head from the stress.

"And this guy ?" Tony pointed to Schaefer's picture.

He looked away for a moment.

"Come on, Mac. You're on the block for this one too…"

"DeLuca," he snapped. "Rambo told him to."

"Oh, so, everyone just ran around doing what Rambo said?' Tony chided.

The man looked deadly serious into Tony's eyes. Softly, He said, "You don't understand…"

"Make me."

"Rambo…was all about the Satan worship. And totally believed he was…chosen…or something. He was nuts! Don't you get it ? I did the tattoo, yes. I read the Satanic Bible, yes. I was a dick! Ok? I was a total asshole, but I never hurt anybody!"

"You were afraid," Tony stated plainly.

"Yes."

In Observation, Fornell noticed Gibbs clenching his fists at his sides.

"What happened with Schaefer?"

"They…set him up…made it look like friendly fire."

"You remember all the details?"

"Yes. But only them talking about it. That DeLuca took care of him. I didn't actually see it go down."

"This guy?" Tony pointed to Gibbs' picture.

"I…dunno. I know he went up against Rambo. That guy had balls of steel. We called him G-2 , but his name was Gibbs…and I'll never forget him. He saved my ass. He and another guy…Teddybear. I got hit in action, and they saved me. Got me to the chopper. He...he didn't deserve...what they wanted to do..."

"You know what happened to him?"

"No…I never saw him again. I…to this day I owe him…at least a thank-you. But Malloy told me, Gibbs also got hit and was in the hospital, and then got a fast ride back stateside. Some…family emergency…I think…"

Gibbs took a shaky breath.

"You believe him?" Fornell asked softly.

"Yeah. Yeah I do," Gibbs said.

"You said…he went up against Rambo…" Tony drew him back in.

He nodded. "Yes. And Rambo told DeLuca to…do something about him…to…eliminate the problem."

Tony just stared at the man for a moment, while in Observation, Gibbs' heart was pounding.

After all these years, he had confirmation. Even in the shrouds of memory, he had believed it was DeLuca that night. To hear it…to _know_ it…was almost overwhelming…

"And this guy?" Tony pointed to Colletti's photo.

McLean shook his head. "I have no idea. If that was Rambo's doing, it was after my time."

"You willing to put everything down on paper that you've told me?" Tony asked.

"I…yes. Just…am I in trouble here?" the man asked with apprehension.

"If you mean, do you need a lawyer? I'd say yes. But…if you will testify to this knowledge in court, you may get some leniency."

"I didn't do anything!" The man groused.

Tony tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes for a moment, "Exactly."

* * *

Gibbs scrubbed his face before taking the cup of coffee from Fornell. "Thanks," he said, sipping it immediately. He had a pounding headache.

Tony was in with DeLuca next.

DeLuca, he knew might be harder to crack, but the guy was a follower, not a leader.

They knew from the initial reports, there was nothing found in McLean or DeLuca's homes to connect them to any of the ritual murders. But, that didn't mean one of them wasn't guilty...or didn't know something...

Tony sat quietly, across from DeLuca. This time, he produced no photographs.

"Tell me something, DeLuca, you still love Satan?" Tony asked.

The man looked as shocked as McLean had.

"What the_ fuck_? Seriously? **That's** what you have me here for ? Last I remember, it's a free country. If I wanna pray to Mickey Mouse, that's my goddamned prerogative."The man snarled.

Behind the Observation glass, Fornell said, "Hostile," in a slightly amused tone with a raised brow.

"Uh-huh," Gibbs murmured, watching every moment with intensity.

Tony just smiled and relaxed back. "That would be cool. I could see you…offering large wedges of cheese…maybe even with crackers to the Great Rodent."

He smiled for a while, and then let it fade from his face.

"That's a lot different than offering up other human beings."

"What? " the man asked incredulously. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

Tony sighed. "If I had a dime for everyone that asked me that…" He leaned forward, green eyes burning into the man, who for all his hubris seemed to flinch. "McLean just sang like a lark. So…you can do this the easy way, maybe make things a little better for yourself by confessing, or, do it the hard way." Tony laughed, "And by all means, do it the hard way, cos' I like a little bit of a challenge."

The man became furious and turned red before there eyes. "I want my lawyer."

"_Of course_ you do. And we will surely give you your lawyer. But know this: we already know, and Mac will testify, that you are indeed, a murderer. And so will Roy Roth."

"Roth?" he spat.

"Yeah. We brought him in yesterday, and his story jives with McLean. That you all worshipped Satan…mental stress…you intimidated them...yada yada, and that you were the ring leader."

"_What_? That fucking** PRICK**!" he jumped up, and his chair hit the floor as Tony just calmly watched him.

"Should we get someone in there?" Fornell asked, feeling concern for DiNozzo's safety.

"Not yet," Gibbs said, "Give him a minute, Tobias."

"Oh yeah," Tony said matter-of-factly. "We've got you on all these guys. Tony pulled out all the photos again now from his folder.

The man's rage receded for just a moment to glance at the photos. "FUCK!" he yelled in fury, and dove at the table, ripping at the photo of Gibbs. "This guy ain't dead! You can't pin this on me! He went home!"

"Because you screwed up and could't get the **job done right**!" Tony yelled at him.

"**FUCK YOU**!" he spat!

"And these guys?" Tony asked picking up the other photos. He put them down angrily, and then held up Bob Hurley's photo. "You killed this guy during a training operation," Tony tore the photo in half and threw it. "That's what Rambo told us."

"**NO**! NO I _DID NOT_! It was **Rambo**. Rambo fucked with the caribeeners ! He made them look like they were ok but he weakened the attachments…**HE DID IT**!"

Tony snorted and shook his head. With a raised brow, he said, "Not what Roth and McLean say."

"**HE TOLD ME TO**!" the man aggressively pounded on the table with both fists in front of Tony.

"Oh, so, you want me to believe you were…what? Following his orders on Schaefer?"

"**YES!**" the man yelled. Then his eyes opened wide, as he realized what he had just confessed to.

"Gotcha'," Fornell whispered next to Gibbs, feeling more than satisfied now that he had agreed to let DiNozzo do all the interviews.

DeLuca looked down at the remaining photos on the desk, almost in shock that he had just admitted to murdering John Schaefer.

Tony very smoothly got up and picked up his chair. "Have a seat."

The man slumped down, eyes tearing up.

Tony sat and said, almost gently, "You may as well tell me everything now. I don't really believe it was you…making those decisions…no, it was Rambo's idea."

The man numbly shook his head as tears started to flow from his eyes.

It was as if the man had found religion, and Tony was his confessor.

"I did it. I…killed Schaefer. On Rambo's order."

"Why?" Tony asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

The man just shrugged. Tony stared at him for a moment.

"This guy?" Tony said, holding Gibbs' photo.

He looked away, breath coming in shaky gasps.

"C'mon, DeLuca."

"Yeah," he choked, and then looked at Tony. "I shot him. During firefight with the Iraqi's. Rambo wanted him _dead_. Wanted it to look like friendly fire…like…what I…did to Schaefer. But his friend got to him. Dragged him behind a tank. Cap said he went home."

Behind the glass, Gibbs was shocked to feel moisture gathering in his own eyes. To hear this man admit to trying to kill him…it was something finally put right. Something from that horrible, lonely time put _right_. He felt Fornell's hand on his shoulder.

"You get justice for everyone else my friend. You deserve the same."

Gibbs nodded mutely.

"So…." Tony said, now holding up the Colletti picture. "What about this guy?"

The tearful, almost sobbing man, looked at it, and hissed "No idea. I don't know nothin' about that one. If you're lookin' at someone for that, it ain't me."

* * *

In the end, they had enough to press full charges against all three men, both Roth and DeLuca facing murder charges, and McLean accessory to. All three faced dishonorables retroactively, and were to be brought up on separate charges by the Corps. Since McLean cooperated fully, they put a recommendation in for him for a lesser sentence. Since they all got out of the service, he was the one who had a family, and tried to live a better life.

It was Friday evening, as they sat in the conference room, regrouping on the ritual murders with Fornell.

Gibbs sat with the FBI SA, and Tony.

"There was nothing to tie these guys, to these killings," Tony said, tapping the now encyclopedia –thick folder before him on the table. "Abby and Ducky are still reviewing all the forensics on the other three cases…McGee and Ziva are still back tracking all the other records and reviewing interviews."

"And let's not forget, we're still looking for Rivera," Fornell offered. APB hasn't got us squat yet, but we know he has been in and out of mental facilities since he got out of the service."

"He looks good for this, Boss, don't you think?"Tony asked. Gibbs looked exhausted. And, as a matter-of-fact, Tony was feeling a little fried himself, though he was extrememly pleased to have helped get justice for the man he looked up to as a father.

Gibbs took a deep breath, and exhaled. "I guess."

"What about the other guys? The ones who weren't part of the Six?" Tony asked Gibbs and Fornell.

"Looking into them all now," Fornell replied. "We focused on the more likely to start with."

"Handel too?" Gibbs asked, feeling a pang of guilt. Just like McLean had said he owed Gibbs a debt of gratitude, Gibbs owed Teddybear the same. He cringed inwardly at the thought of seeing Handel…of what his old partner would say after all this time. The good Marine who tried to warn him about Rambo…the man who saved his life. He felt like an ungrateful bastard, on top of feeling guilty for not going after the bastards in the first place.

"Yup." Fornell looked at him. "I'll update you Monday, or sooner if we get in touch with them. You wanna say anything to the other dirtbags before we transfer them for you?"

"Nah," Gibbs said, "it'll be fun to see their faces when I show up to help testify against them."

Fornell and Tony took the comment at face value, though they know it wasn't easy for Gibbs to have confronted this situation in the first place.

* * *

When the doors opened to Autopsy, Ducky was not surprised to see Gibbs.

"Ah, Jethro," he said, taking the hat off he had just donned with the intention of going home for the night. "Better late, than never, as they say."

Gibbs just stared at his old friend for a while.

Ducky walked to the nearer table, and leaned casually against it.

"I was hoping you would come by sooner…just to talk about all this. But, I do not underestimate how difficult and painful all fo this has been for you, my dear friend."

At the kind words, Gibbs turned and paced a little.

Ducky narrowed his eyes. After so much time, he could read Gibbs' body language like a book.

"You are still very worried, aren't you Jethro?"

"Dammit Duck!" He finally said as he paced. "These guys…I should have…_Jesus_! So long ago..." It was eating at him now, that these men had been so guilty and left to go free for so long.

Ducky nodded. "Yes. There's a fair bit about all this for you to kick yourself over I suppose…but…you truly do not deserve that."

Gibbs stopped pacing for a moment, his eyes filled with anguish as he looked at Ducky. "Why not? Those other men…they deserved _better_ than that. They deserved justice!"

"And they shall have it now, Jethro. You were not an NCIS Agent back then. You were a Marine, fighting in a War, dealing with things the best way you knew how. And then…the unthinkable happened. One of your own tried to end you. You lost your family. _Your family_ Jethro !"

Gibbs turned from Ducky to face the doors for a moment, wanting to run rather than talk about that pain again. But…he didn't. He had run from it long enough. He turned back to Ducky, "I dunno'…if I can ever make this right in my head…"

"You won't, Jethro. Rest assured, you were a victim of terrible violence and betrayal. There is no way to go back and change the past. You had to find a way to survive it all…Please. Please do not crucify yourself over something _no other human being_ could have handled with grace."

Gibbs swallowed and nodded.

After a moment, Ducky cocked his head. "That's not all there is, am I right? We still have another one of the Six to be brought in…a killer…or several are still on the loose."

Gibbs nodded again, and looked at Ducky, "I can't seem to shake this feeling…"

"Ah the famous 'Gibbs Gut'," Ducky said knowingly. "Well, forgive me for pointing this out, Jethro, but you have been through the proverbial wringer this week, my friend. And these murders are…grizzly."

"Yes," Gibbs said, and sighed.

"Maybe…you could use a distraction…?" Ducky said to his friend hopefully.

Gibbs suddenly allowed himself a hint of a smile. "No way."

"Abby would be so delighted if you came-"

"No. Duck. _No_. I am not a masquerade kinda guy." Gibbs snorted, "Though sometimes, I wish I was."

"Well, we will miss you Sunday night." Ducky put his hat on. "Though, anticipating you may not attend, I requested that Palmer take a gratuitous number of photographs." Ducky chuckled, "I'm sure we can come away with some choice images of Tony that Ziva and McGee can enjoy for years to come."

Gibbs chuckled. "I want a copy too, Duck."

Ducky grinned. "Of course, Jethro. I've already told Palmer to develop in quadruplicate."


	12. Chapter 12

Tony took his time getting ready Sunday for Abby's big night. She had called him earlier that day.

(Flashback)

_"Tonytonytony!"_

He laughed into the receiver. "You excited Abs?"

_"Yah-haaahhh!"_ She yelled as he winced and pulled it away from his ear for a moment. _"You ready Tony?"_

"Ah, if you mean am I in costume and mask already, that would be no. No I'm not ready yet. But I'm guessing you're dancing all around your coffin with that mask Gibbs gave you."

She sounded honestly surprised. _"How did you know? Maybe you're getting psychic like Gibbs."_

He laughed again.

She continued, _"Speaking of Gibbs…is he okay Tony? I'm so, so worried about him. I wish he would come out tonight with us…just to let loose for once…"_

He heard her sigh.

"I went over last night and brought him a new brand of Bourbon to try. I think that's about all the letting loose he can stand…"

_"…Tony…"_

"He's alright Abs," he said quietly. "This has been rough on him. But he's knee deep in sawdust again…building…something. I didn't ask what. You know that wood is his therapy. It talks only slightly less than he does."

She sighed again. _"I know…I just…."_

"Abs?"

"_Yeah Tonytony?_"

"Whatcha' wearin'?"

She laughed. "_I was torn. I wasn't sure black lace with this fancy and most beautiful Italian mask, or go all shiny golden crazy…"_

"Wow- you'd consider something besides black?"

_"Yeah, once in a while, for a special occasion."_

Tony smiled. "Well it is special Abs. You know, I'm amazed that no matter how busy we get…you always somehow find the time to help people. I…I really admire you for that Abs. Without you, that women's shelter would have be shut down."

She was quiet for a moment, a little overwhelmed by his sincerity.

_"Oh Tony, you guys help people all the time, and put your lives at risk every day to do it. I just hang in my safe Lab and analyze…stuff. I needed to do more. I can do more."_

It was his turn to be silent.

_"So…"_ she said in a sexy voice, _"what're you wearin'?"_

He laughed. "I'm not telling, you'll have to wait and see. I doubt I spent the serious cash Gibbs laid out for that mask of yours, but I got somethin' good. You'll see."

_"Awwww come on! No one will tell me!"_

He laughed. "I'm hurt Abs. Who else did you call before me to interrogate?"

_"Uh…well, I called Ziva first. All she said was she was going red."_

Tony made a growling tiger noise and Abby laughed.

_"And then I called McGee and he wouldn't tell me a thing. Well, other than he's looking forward to...seeing my outfit…"_

"I'm sure he is…" Tony said, and ventured more, "You know Abs, he still-"

_"Yes, yes, I know. But…I …I'm just not there yet. I'm not ready…and McGee…he's so good, Tony. He deserves-"_

"Someone amazing. Like you, Abby. When you're ready."

She paused, and then said, _"When did you get so…"_

"I dunno', Abs. I guess…seeing Gibbs in a little more humanistic light…just got me thinking…we all should try to be happy while we can…but…" he turned the conversation a bit lighter again, "who else did you call?"

"_Everyone."_

"Jeeze Abs, I'm last?"

She laughed. _"I was just saving the best for last !_"

(End flashback)

He smiled thinking about them all, their little dysfunctional family.

He took a look at the crazy outfit on the chair he'd planned out. Solid black jeans and a long-sleeved deep purple silk shirt. Belt and shoes black. And the mask was pretty amazing even if he didn't spend a ton. It was purple and gold, with swirling textures and the diamond pattern of a harlequin on it. It was edged with a rich brocade trim which helped it look much more expensive than it was. But it was still simple, only to cover the upper part of his face.

He smiled as he picked it up.

"Abby's gonna love this."

* * *

They all met up a little before the dinner began. Their intention was to have drinks and celebrate Abby's good work. They all needed to have a good time, after the week they had.

Ziva looked…amazing. She wore a simple long red satin sheath dress, and her mask was that of a glittering red bird. The petitie beak was in gold, and the rest of the mask was covered in red crystals leading into big, red feathers which shot out and up high above her forehead.

McGee was no slouch either. He had all black on, dress pants with a cotton shirt, and his mask was a fine leather turquoise dragon which had wavy spikes coming up for the forehead and out the cheeks. It had some black and gold paint as well.

Ducky who was dressed in a full tux and bowtie, was sporting a long-nosed golden mask, which had red and blue swirls down its nose and across it's forehead. Tony was torn whether thinking it beautiful or ridiculous.

Palmer had on a mask that was a full gold and black harlequin, with jester's points out the top and a ruffle collar at the bottom. He was dressed to the nines much as Ducky, and Tony assumed they had likely planned that together.

But the best, Tony thought, was Dorneget. The usually shy, reserved Agent was sporting a forest green velvet suit, and a silver and green mask that was intriguing. It looked to be half carved away, so it covered most of but not all parts of his face. The angles were swirling…and it sparkled with green crystals and clear rhinestones.

"Wow !" Said Tony, taking his seat near Ziva. "Dorney, your mask is just freakin' amazing!"

"Thanks Agent DiNozzo!" Dorneget smiled, and said, "I can live with Dorney, or mini-probie at work, but you can call me Ned outside. That's what my friends call me."

Tony smiled warmly at that and said, "Okay Ned, then outside work same goes for you. Just call me Tony, alright?'

Dorneget smiled and the all looked around the hall for Abby to appear.

"How will we know it's her?" Ziva asked.

"Oh, Tony said with a grin, "Gibbs got her an off-the-hook swan mask. One of those hand-held thingys. You won't be able to miss it."

"Ah," said Ducky, "I believe here she is right now and, oh my, that mask is positively exquisite!'

Tony turned and looked at Abby approaching, but then spun back and said, "You look quite exquisite as well, my little ninja chick."

"Oh why thank you, Tony." She took an appraising look at him, "You look quite handsome tonight yourself."

He smiled in return.

"Abby!" Palmer waved as Abby made it to their table through the many people already milling about in the softly-lit hall.

"OHHHHH MY GOOOOHHHD!" she yelled out, "Look at all of you ! You look so gorgeous!" Her dark hair was down and pin straight, like her bangs. She was wearing an ecru minidress covered with golden paillettes that matched her mask. She wore brown tights that had flecks of gold in them, and unbelievably high, gold platform shoes that were atypically feminine.

Tony noticed McGee's moth open across the table. 'Probie!" he hissed.

"Uh- huh?" McGee looked at him. Tony raised his brows, which of course McGee could not see behind his mask.

So Tony just said, "Be cool!"

McGee nodded, and Tony heard Ziva giggle a bit next to him, after catching the exchange.

A beautiful red-haired girl wearing a black and gold striped costume and simple gold mask came by the table as Abby took her seat.

"Hi Abby!" the girl said warmly. "I'm so excited for you tonight!"

"Thanks Mikki!" Abby grinned at her. "You taking care of us ?"

"Yep ! Sure am!" the girl smiled as her blue eyes gazed out from under the mask.

Tony idly thought she was hot and wondered what she looked like without her mask. Normally he would even flirt with her…but she seemed to know Abby…and he knew Ziva would do her best to sabotage his efforts much as an irritating sibling would do.

"What do you all want to drink ? We're serving during dinner but after the Awards it will just be open bar." The girl pulled a pen from behind her ear and produced a small pad from the cleavage in her tight dress.

"Hey now!" Tony said, and almost on cue Ziva kicked him under the table while the others just smiled.

"My dear girl, we are celebrating this _lovely_ Swan-creature you see here," Ducky said happily. "Do you have any champagne we could have before cocktails to toast her with?"

"Oh yes," she smiled. "It's not to fancy, but tastes amazing. It's called Verdi."

"Oh that's fine! Please put it on my tab," Ducky said as the girl nodded and walked off.

"Oh Ducky, that is so sweet," Abby said, leaning next to him in her seat to hug him.

"My pleasure my dear Abigail!" Ducky said.

"She seems nice," Dorneget said to Abby.

"Oh yeah," Abby smiled. "She's a sweetheart. She's actually one of the women who volunteers with me at the shelter. She comes from a tough background herself. She ran away from home when she was younger…she's just a good egg."

Within seconds after, Mikki came back with a tray of champagne glasses, while another girl brought the bottle of champagne.

Mikki set the glasses out in front of everyone, and then took the bottle from the other girl and popped the champagne while Abby clapped.

She poured a glass for each one, and then took the empty bottle and tray away with her.

In the beautiful hall, decorated with lots of gold and glitter, they all raised their glasses to Abby.

Ducky opened his mouth to speak, but Tony jumped in, "I think we should all say something !"

"YES!" Ducky grinned under his long-nosed mask, "Indeed my friend! I shall go first!" He turned slightly to Abby, "To a creature who is just as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside!"

Palmer said, "To Abby, one of the best forensics scientists I know!"

"You don't know many others, Mr. Palmer," Ducky murmured to him, and Palmer's smile faltered.

"To Abby," Ziva said, "You have a big heart, and have room in it for everyone. Even me. Thank you."

Abby's eyes started to tear under her mask.

"To Abby," Tony said, "One of the most amazing women I know."

"To Abby," Dorneget said, "You…are always...nice...to me."

They all chuckled at him a little.

And then McGee said softly, "To Abby, who taught me to not take myself so seriously, and continues to teach me about grace and selflessness."

Abby's glass was shaking in her hand as the emotions she felt for her friends overwhelmed her. "To you guys, too," she said huskily, " the best friends anyone could ever have."

"Cheers!" they all said and clinked their glasses, draining them of the delicious pear-flavored champagne.

"Ooohhh that was goood!" Abby said happily. "Can we have some more?"

"Surely we can. My dear. But I believe our boys here may want their lagers and such."

"Not me," said Tony, smiling, "I'm goin' Gibbs style tonight. Bourbon neat!"

"Did I hear someone wants another drink?" Mikki appeared, putting a hand on McGee's shoulder as she came to the table. McGee glanced at it, and then at her cleavage, and then blushed and looked back down at the table.

"We have dinner coming in about thirty minutes, yes?" Ziva asked her.

"Yes you do." Mikki looked at her notepad, "I have three chicken cordon-bleus, three meat lasagna's and one vegetarian."

"Correct!" said Abby.

"In that case," Ziva said with a smile, "I'll have a gin & tonic. May as well let it all hang off!"

Tony and McGee snorted.

"Ah it's hang-out," Palmer said. "Let it all hang-out."

"I know silly," Ziva said, "I'm just teasing you all."

"Really?" Tony said. "How often do you do that?'

"More often than you know," Ziva smiled, and they all laughed.

* * *

Gibbs was wiping down the wood slats he had sanded for the chair he was now making.

He really didn't need a chair.

But he knew how to make one without plans…and he needed his hands to be busy…so he started one.

He needed to be alone, and find some peace for himself, just even for a few hours.

He was glad in a way that everyone had gone to Abby's benefit.

Tony had come to check on him the night before. And McGee had left a fumbling message. After that, Ziva also stopped by.

There was nothing new to say to them, so he told them he would be fine and to enjoy the big night.

Since it was Halloween and he didn't want to be disturbed, he put a large bucket of candy outside which read : 'ONE piece of candy per kid. I have surveillance. When empty, there is no more.'

"Just like a cranky old man," he said to himself.

And then he heard someone ringing the bell. It was almost 9 pm. He guessed the candy had run out and now some pain in the ass kid was trying to see if the sign was fake.

Gibbs sighed and threw down the tack cloth, as the ringing continued, cursing to himself.

Muttering about installing a trap door, he climbed the steps.

The bell rang again as he neared the top and he yelled, "Alright already!" He stormed over to the door, swinging it open, ready to chew out the annoying kid who was undoubtedly standing there in a costume.

But there was no one.

The street was dark except for the streetlamps, and he took two steps out onto his porch. Down the block were several kids in costumes, carrying their candy sacks.

To his left he heard a car start and pull away, but couldn't see it from where he stood.

"What the-" he said as he turned back to his door and almost kicked the small tin box that he hadn't noticed until that moment.

Something twisted inside him.

It was an old bandaid tin, with the name "GIBBS" written across the top with a sharpie in black.

He swallowed, and thought maybe, for just a hopeful moment it was something one of his neighbor's kids left…

He knew he probably should not, but he slowly, carefully opened the tin.

There was tissue paper inside, and something metallic that slid a little in the box as he shook it.

He pushed back the paper.

It was an old set of dog tags on a chain.

He lifted them out slowly, gazing at them, glinting in the light coming from inside his house.

They were Captain Malloy's!

"Christ!" Gibbs said, looking around the darkness.

But he already knew the car he heard was the mystery deliveryman or woman getting away.

There was a small note inside.

As his heart pounded loudly in his ears, he read the words, "Missing something?"

His eyes widened, and he ran inside to get his Sig.


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh, _c'mon_ Probie. The crazy glue thing never gets old!" Tony laughed as McGee scowled. Ziva and Abby were smiling from under their masks.

"You know, Tony-" McGee began irritably.

"Awww McGee!" Abby said, chuckling, "You know Tony doesn't really mean anything by that. He'd jump in front of a bullet for you," Abby smiled at him, raising her brows just a little.

"Well," Tony said, still joking, "Let's not get crazy Abs."

"Yeah," McGee said, "Let's not get crazy. I mean…after all…Tony IS the regular hero around here. Not like we ever do anything big."

Tony frowned a little, watching Abby's mouth likewise under her sparkling swans, turn corners down.

_What the hell is wrong with McGee_? He wondered_. Maybe too much to drink_ ?

They had all ordered at least three drinks after the champagne. But they also ate dinner…and now were waiting for Abby to get the word to go up for her award…

"McGee," Abby began softly, "I don't-"

"No, you don't understand." McGee suddenly put his hand over hers on the table. She looked at it, as did Tony and Ziva, who at the moment were the only ones present. "Abby…I love you. I love you _so_ so much…I just…I wanna show you how much…" he moved closer, as Abby clutched her mask handle shakily and gaped at him with wide eyes.

"Tim, this is not the time…" Abby put her other hand over his and squeezed, "I think we should talk about it tomorrow…over a... Caf-Pow…when you've slept it off…or something…"

"I'm not drunk!" he yelled as she jumped.

Tony and Ziva were both about to intervene, when Mikki came over to the table.

"Hey, Abby, it's time to go up to the backstage!" the girl smiled happily.

"Uh…okay," Abby said looking between her and the seriously mooning McGee.

"I'll come with you," McGee said. "Just to the backstage…"

Abby sighed a little looking between them all and smiled, "Okay McGee, but no funny business or I will make you SO regret it tomorrow."

He laughed. "Okay Abby. I'll be good. I promise."

They both got up and Abby quickly turned to Tony and Ziva, "I hope they all come back to see it. Where did they go?"

"Ducky went to make a call since reception wasn't good in here," Ziva replied, her red mask sparkling. "Dorneget and Palmer went to the bar since they aren't serving at the table anymore."

"Oh…Okay. Alrighty. " Abby looked at McGee and then followed Mikki to the side of the room. The banquet was only about twelve tables of ten people, all dressed up and in masks. Up in front was a curtained stage with wooden steps and burgundy velvet curtains. In the center was a decorated podium, and the stage had two doors on either side that lead to exits.

McGee went to follow, but lingered, to lean over to Tony and say, "You always try to embarrass me in front of her Tony, I won't forget it."

Ziva overheard and her eyes looked incredulously at Tony. This was just...not McGee. Was he...actually jealous of Tony?

The SFA was just watching McGee follow Abby. And then saw McGee pinch her ass!

"Jesus, what has gotten into him tonight?" Tony said aloud.

"I do not know," said Ziva, "but I do not like it. I should-" she went to get up but he stopped her.

"No, I'll go make sure it's all okay back there. Maybe…he's having a reaction or something?" Tony offered as he pushed his chair out.

"Maybe…"Ziva said, "But he was so…overly affectionate before and then seemed to become…I don't know. Angry…?"

"Ok," Tony said, "just tell the guys I'll be back in a bit. I just wanna' make sure McSchizo is behaving."

She nodded and watched him dodge through the masked waitstaff still cleaning up after the dinner, the girls in their little striped dresses and masks and the young men in capes with hoods and masks.

Ziva wondered how they were managing to bus tables in such clothing.

Ducky came back to the table. "My, you are too beautiful to be sitting here all alone, my dear, where have they all gone?" The ME chose to take Tony's seat next to her.

She smiled, "Palmer and Dorneget are just coming back now with their drinks," she pointed as Ducky saw them walking away from the bar with beers in hand. "And Tony…went with Abby and Tim, to wait backstage for her award…"her tone held a hint of worry.

"Well," Ducky smiled under the large nose on his mask, "that's quite an entourage."

"Ducky," Ziva said with worry, "Do you not think McGee is…acting strangely tonight?"

"Ah, now that you mention it…he told everyone over dinner how much he loves them…which is very…sweet, but did not seem very like Timothy. And the hugging…I just assumed he was a bit intoxicated, and in a euphoric state brought on by the fine spirits we have been taking in his evening. Is that what you mean, my dear?"

"Yes…but…he also became…" Ziva was struggling to describe what happened. "…he became aggressive with Abby and Tony."

"Timothy?"

"Yes," she said as Dorneget and Palmer sat down with their drinks.

Ducky frowned, but as he was about to say something else, the lights went down and an older woman with sharp Latin features stood at the podium asking for attention.

* * *

All McGee knew as he followed Abby to the stage is that her rear looked incredible in the little dress she had on. He loved her…more than anything on the planet. She was so beautiful. SO perfect…it was all he could do to keep himself from pulling her to him and kissing her senseless. As they passed through the backstage door, he faltered, suddenly feeling a bit too hot and dizzy. "Whoa," he murmured, leaning against the shadowed wall of the side stage area.

"McGee!" Abby called worriedly, lowering her glittering swans down to really look at him, her pale green eyes somber. "Are you alright?" She gently squeezed his arm.

"Uh…" he swallowed back the threat looming in his gullet. "Yeah…I uh…think maybe I drank a little too much…" He suddenly felt angry at himself. "Shit Abs, I do not want to ruin anything for you tonight…"

"Oh McGee…You could never, ever-" she began.

"Hey," he stopped her, and pointed to their left to the exit door that lead to outside. "I'm just gonna get some air, just for a sec. I promise…"he took a shaky breath. "I promise to come right back."

"I'll come with you –"

"No," he said, and as if on cue, the emcee was beginning the intro onstage. "Look- they're starting- this is your big moment Abs, go." He smiled weakly under his mask.

She hesitated. "McGee-"

"Go," he saw the speaker and stage lights from the angle they were at.

She raised her brows. "Okay- but you better be right back in."

He nodded, and then made for the exit door as her hand fell from his arm.

She gave him a worried glance, still torn, as her name was mentioned over the speaker system. She suddenly felt nervous, and excited, and her focus went out towards the curtained entrance to the stage.

McGee stumbled towards the back door, his heart pounding, and still dizzy. He hoped the cold, fresh air would help. He doggedly pulled his mask off up and over his head, anticipating a nice rush of chilled air on his skin.

As he went to push in the doorbar, he heard the door from the main hall open.

And what happened next, would prove to be a blur for days afterwards.

Hands shoved at him from behind, causing him to fall roughly out the door into the dark back alley outside. There was no time to break his fall, and he hit his chin hard on the pavement. Immediately, coppery blood drifted from his lips, the result of his teeth clipping his tongue.

He tried to recover, struggling to pull his hands under him, but the world just spun.

A male voice said, "Get his hands together quick, tape em' and also his mouth. After that, feet."

McGee groaned, feeling himself coiling up inside to vomit. "Don't," he murmured softly, since most of his energy was somehow gone. The air was cold, as was the cement, but he still felt like he was roasting. "M'gonna puke," he breathed out, trying to pull his arms away from the hands that were taping his wrists together.

"Better do it fast then, man," a second male voice said impassively, as hands were quickly twirling tape around his wrists.

In the dark of the alley, he saw a caped form, a man, in a mask, opening up the back doors of a white van.

Suddenly, with horror, his fuzzy brain registered he was being kidnapped. He was roughly rolled over, forced to look up at a face wearing a golden mask. It was one of the servers from the banquet staff.

The man quickly placed tape over his mouth, which wasn't working much anymore anyway…

"C'mon, man. Hurry," the other man said, as his ankles were quickly taped as well.

Both kidnappers lifted him up to carry him to the van…something was definitely wrong… he was trying to stay conscious, but now his vision was getting little starry dots in it. He thought sadly about how this would ruin Abby's big night after all.

Then he heard some other noise behind him.

"Drop him!"a voice bellowed. "Now! Or at least one of you is gonna' have a hole in his head!"

And they did.

He went down hard, with a puff of breath exiting his nose. _Tony?_ He wondered…_had to be_…

He was struggling to open his eyes. He faintly saw a figure holding a gun, at the men standing around him. And then someone…another figure…coming up behind that one…holding something…and then finally, he lost his fight with consciousness and everything went black.

* * *

Gibbs ran into the hall, unnoticed mostly, because the main room was dark before the stage, and Abby was giving her acceptance speech.

Gibbs took a breath, stilling himself for a moment to look around and let his eyesight adjust.

"I just wanna thank the awesome staff here, and Sister Rosita for all her support. And without all the volunteers, and the people who donated everything from money, to clothes, to food…I mean, one woman even made us twenty trays of home made lasagna…" she was gushing, and Gibbs smiled a little at seeing her hand trembling, holding the handle of the swan mask up on the podium.

Then as she continued, he looked around for their table. Everything seemed calm…orderly…but his gut was twisted in a knot.

He found the table after recognizing Ziva, and Ducky's bowtie, and went and took a seat. They all turned to look at him, in surprise.

"Jethro ! You came ! Oh Abby is going to be positively ecstatic!" Ducky exclaimed.

"Gibbs!" Ziva said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

They saw the look on his face.

"What's wrong?" asked Palmer.

"Jethro?" Ducky asked, suddenly serious as he took in Gibbs' demeanor.

"I dunno…yet," Gibbs said softly. He was aware of the dog tags and note in his pocket, contained and ready for Abby' lab in a Ziploc bag.

"Where are McGee and DiNozzo?" he asked sharply.

"They are both backstage. They…went to keep Abby company before she was called onto the stage," Ziva replied, looking at Gibbs and feeling his subtle apprehension.

Up on stage, Abby concluded her thank you speech, and the room came alive with applause. She walked off the stage, holding her little Lucite award, shaped like an apple, and her swan mask.

"You're not wearing a mask, Agent Gibbs," Dorneget said, in a slightly puzzled tone.

Gibbs just shot him a glare.

"Not that…anyone…w-would…expect you to…"Dorneget fumbled.

"I've been trying to call all of you," Gibbs said in a slightly annoyed growl, looking back and forth from them to the stage area.

"Well," Ducky began, "I had to go outside to make a call earlier, Jethro. The reception here is just deplor-"

He was cut short by the sound of a door bursting open, and the sound of a woman screaming for help.

And in a flash they recognized her voice.

It was Abby.


	14. Chapter 14

_What kind of hangover was this ?_

He felt like every part of him was dried out like jerky. With a soft groan, he lifted a hand slowly to his aching face. The whole left side seemed to throb, from his chin up to his ear. He could feel something soft with edges…a bandage…over his chin and jaw.

"McGee?" Abby's voice called softly to him.

Abby…_Ohgod._

He opened his eyes blearily. "Abby…" he croaked out. His tongue hurt like hell.

She was seated in a chair by his bed, holding his other hand, brow creased ever so slightly in worry. And behind her, stood Gibbs.

"You back with us, Tim?" Gibbs asked softly. The older man's blue eyes were filled with anger and concern.

McGee tried to swallow weakly as he took in both of their drawn faces. "I…"he began…and then tried to push up to sit . Which only made his headache intensify, so with a frustrated moan he laid back down. Everything was coming back to him. "Someone…tried to…k-kidnap me," he said slowly," from Abby's party. And…" he looked up at both of them again, "was I drugged?"

Abby nodded affirmatively while Gibbs just said, "Yes. To the gills."

"God," he sighed, "I was such an…ass. I'm so sorry Abby-"

"No!" Abby said strongly, "You do not apologize! You were drugged McGee! And they really gave you such a strong dose…you're lucky to be okay. I mean, relatively speaking. For someone who was drugged and almost kidnapped…"

McGee looked at Gibbs. "I don't…some of it's fuzzy…"

"Try to remember," Gibbs said calmly, but McGee could sense something…an urgency to the words.

"I…was…feeling a lot of things…sort of happy, but kind of edgy…and not well. I got up to go with Abby to the stage area. And when I was back there…I felt sick so I wanted air…" he struggled to rememeber. "…Someone…pushed me out the doors I think, and I hit the pavement with my face." He absently felt the bandages again along his jawline.

"That would explain…all the…the…blood on you…when I found you in the alley…"Abby said, as her eyes welled up.

"Abby," McGee said gently, "I'm okay." McGee put an arm out as she gently leaned over from her chair and snuggled against him quietly.

"What else?" Gibbs pushed, hand gripping the back of the chair Abby sat in until his knuckles were white.

Suddenly, McGee gasped. His eyes widened a fraction as he stared at Gibbs. "Tony. Tony was there. Is he okay?"

Abby leaned back and she and Gibbs passed a quick look between them and Gibbs nodded at her.

She turned back with her glistening eyes and said, "He's missing."

McGee tried to calm his breathing. He had to _think_. He let his eyes trail over his legs under the hospital blanket.

"They …pushed me out the door…I…dunno who did that…and then taped me up. I was dizzy…nauseous…felt like I was passing out…and then I heard Tony tell them to put me down or they'd get a bullet. I…." he took a sharp inhale. "I didn't see their faces…they had those masks on…"

"They were dressed as the party staff?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. And…I saw…I think I saw Tony, standing with his gun raised…"

"You _think_?" Gibbs said in a semi growl.

Abby turned and raised a brow at him.

"Well, I was a bit fuzzy, Boss. But I do know…someone else was there…" McGee tried desperately to remember. "There were two guys with masks. And…the person that was coming up behind Tony…was a woman."

"Are you sure?" Gibbs eyed him intensely.

McGee nodded, "Yes. I didn't get a sharp look…but I think one of the waitresses possibly…she had on the striped dress they were wearing…I think…"

Abby sighed sadly.

"I'm so sorry Abby, I ruined your big night," he said, and licked his dry lips.

"Do NOT apologize again for this, McGee. It wasn't your fault. And now the most important thing is we find Tony…"she watched Gibbs pour McGee some water and hand him the cup. He took it with a shaky hand.

"Boss, do you think this has something to do with the case? I mean…" McGee was almost sick as he said the words. "You think…someone from this cult …might have been trying to kidnap me, and took Tony instead?"

Gibbs released a small puff of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Maybe."

"Oh…" McGee closed his eyes for a moment. This was all…unthinkable. What was happening to Tony right now? "Jesus," he groaned, "it was supposed to be me, not him…"

"No use thinkin' like that, Tim," Gibbs said softly, as Abby squeezed his arm.

He opened his eyes, and looked at both of them. "I need to get out of here and help-"

Gibbs stepped forward, placing a strong, insistent hand on his shoulder, effectively pinning him to the bed. "You're job right now, Agent McGee, is to recover from the drugs that got dumped into your system, along with the stitches you took to the face. Rest. Once they clear you, then you get your ass into the Yard. Understood?"

Gibbs' intense gaze left no argument, so McGee just shook his head and looked away.

He felt the hand leave his shoulder, and then Gibbs said, "You remember anything else, call me," and then he was gone.

"Timmy," Abby said softly. "Look at me."

McGee looked up into her pale eyes, filled now with compassion. "We will get Tony back. We will. And we'll get the bastards who took him."

He swallowed, and nodded. "Right. What can you tell me?"

She put both her hands on his one on the bed, and took a shaky breath.

"After I gave my acceptance speech, I came to look for you. I was worried…you know…I knew something was wrong. I just thought maybe you drank too much…"

McGee nodded, suddenly covering his face with his one free hand. "I grabbed your ass…"

She snorted. "Yes, you indeed grabbed my ass, McGee. But…don't worry about that right now. I went to find you. And you weren't backstage…so I went out into the alley. And..there was a small fire extinguisher on the ground…and off to my right there you were. All…taped up and gagged…and blood all over ..." she swallowed harshly. "Blood all over your face…" she shuddered. "I thought for a minute…you…you…" her lip trembled and big droplets started to freely run from her eyes.

"Abby," he breathed, pulling her too him again. He could feel her trembling, and gently stroked her dark glossy hair. "I'm okay. I swear I will be fine."

"I just…" she barely got out against his chest. "I just…"

"What?" he asked, and felt her slowly pull up to look at him.

She stared right into his eyes. "Was it all the drugs last night? All the things you said?"

"All the things I…" he tried to go over what he remembered of their conversations, and suddenly felt himself flush. "No…it wasn't all the drugs." He knew what she was talking about.

"You…love me?" Abby asked in almost a squeak.

He sighed and smiled just little. "You already knew that, didn't you Abby?"

Suddenly she grinned. "Yeah, I guess…I just didnt know after we broke up-"

"After you dumped me."

"After I dumped you…yes…but…well, that's such a harsh term really…"

"It's okay Abs." He tried to give her a genuine looking smile.

"No. It's not. It's not okay. Because…I love you too. And …I thought just for a teeny, tiny, millisecond that I had lost you forever…"she wiped at her face, trying to regain composure.

He nodded slowly. And then said, "Okay, how about we…talk about all of this…about us…after we find Tony? We have to focus on that," he said it moe for himself than Abby.

She nodded again, "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated.

"So…I tried to wake you…"she said shakily, sitting back and gripping his hand again as if she was holding on for dear life. "But you…were completely out. So I got the tape off your mouth first just so I could know you ere breathing okay, and then I went and got help."

"The fire extinguisher?" he asked.

"Had a little hair and blood on it…Tony's. So…we think-"

"That someone came up behind him while he was trying to save me, and hit him over the head."

"Yes."

"So…why did they take him, and not me?" he wondered.

"We don't know. Gibbs is looking into everyone on staff at the banquet…to figure out if they were workers or just people dressed as them. Maybe," she said thoughtfully, "maybe Tony saw one of their faces…or somehow he was a better candidate for their…plans…"

Now McGee shuddered. "I hope to God that it isn't about this case. Security footage?"

"None in the alley…but down the street a cargo van was recorded with covered license plates. I'm guessing they likely stopped somewhere to uncover the plates, but were smart enough to evade the cameras local to that alley." She let out a long breath. "There was nothing else in the alley. And …Gibbs…got a little home delivery we're also looking at."

"What do you mean?" he asked, as a nurse came in, ignoring them both, and started taking his stats. She didn't seem surprised he was awake. But then again, some nurses had bedside manners like that.

"It was…a little box…with Malloy's dog tags and a note. It said, 'Missing something?'"

McGee closed his eyes, even more apprehensive than before for his missing SFA. "God."

Abby said nothing, but squeezed his hand even tighter. "We'll find him, Tim. **Gibbs **will find him. He has to."

* * *

He shivered. And hurt.

Based on the symptoms (and he knew them well), Tony knew he had a concussion. But it must be a bad one, because on top of it he felt extremely sluggish.

Remotely, he heard water dripping somewhere. And voices carrying as if from down a long, echoing hallway.

And something else. It sounded like…soft crying.

He cracked one eye open.

"What the hell?" he whispered to himself, and then recalled what had happened before he woke in this…place. Whatever it was.

He was Abby's party…and someone tried to kidnap McGee. He panicked, suddenly wondering if McGee was okay. The Probie wasn't with him…

He was lying on a cot, in a room that looked like a jail cell. Three walls and a metal gate with bars and a sliding door. He was certain it was going to be locked…but hey, why not try to see anyway?

He sat up, leaning against the cold cement wall. It felt oddly good against his warm face. Taking a few breaths, he slowly turned his body to get ready to stand up.

The lighting was dim, and since there were no windows in his deluxe accommodations, he had to assume there were light sources (and exits) somewhere down the hall.

As his eyes adjusted, in the shadows he could make out that the cement looked very old…this was likely someplace that had been abandoned long ago.

The disgusting toilet looked a million years old, and he was relieved to see a bucket with water and a few small hand towels sitting next to it. Not comforting to think he might have to relieve himself out in the open, but hey, at least he could flush.

As he stood up, he realized something he hadn't noticed before.

He was in black scrubs.

A terrible feeling went through him, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He knew at the very least, he was in deep shit. He took a deep breath to steady himself. _Gibbs will find me._

He thought it several times as a mantra.

Opening his eyes, he slowly stood, bracing his hand along the wall to keep steady, since tche world was tilting a little and not cooperating with him.

He slowly stumbled along the wall, trying to stay conscious and almost dragging himself against it, until he came to the bars. A pull against the door revealed what he already knew.

It was locked.

A soft snuffling and a little sob came from a cell directly across from his. It sounded…female…not likely McGee…

He couldn't see them, but he knew there was someone in the shadows, likely being held prisoner as he was.

"Hey," he called softly. "Hey in there- you okay?"

Another tiny sob and hiccup.

"Hello?" he asked softly again.

"Hi," came the shaky reply. It was the voice of a child.

"Can…can I see you?" he asked.

There was no reply, at first. Then, the voice replied. "No."

He wasn't sure what to say next.

"I'm Jackie," she said, sniffling loudly. "Do you know if my parents are looking for me?"

Something twisted in him, and he felt outrage at the captors he had not even met yet. "I'm sure they are, honey. How old are you Jackie?"

"T-twelve."

_God. _

"I'm Tony, Jackie. And I'm a Federal Agent."

"Does that mean you can rescue us?" she asked hopefully from the dark corner of her cell.

"Well…not yet. But my friends, like, all of the other Agents, are out looking for me. SO they will rescue us."

"Promise?" she asked desperately.

"Yes."

"Are you hurt Jackie? Is that why you don't want me to see you?" his voice was as gentle as he could make it. He had to help her, somehow.

"No…"she said hesitantly. "They took my clothes."

"Mine too," he said, reassuringly. "I don't think the whole scrubs thing is really me…and it's…"he swallowed, "creepy that someone…changed my clothes while I was unconscious."

"They cut them off you," she said in a small voice. "And gave you a shot."

_Great_, he thought. _This poor kid got to see me naked and drugged. As if she won't need therapy for this as it is._

He waited a moment, and then asked, "Did they do that to you too?"

"Yeah…" she replied. "Except…I still have nothing to wear…"

"Oh," he said. _Jesus._ He wondered what else had happened to the poor girl, but for now, he needed to start figuring out an escape plan.

Trouble was, he was starting to slide down the bars, because his body just didn't want to hold him up.

"Have you seen their faces? How many…how many are there?" he asked, in little more than a mumble.

It felt so good to lie on the cool floor.

"Yes, I've seen them," she replied, and his heart sank. Whatever they were doing, whoever they were, they had no plans of letting this girl go.

"How…"he wanted to ask how many again, but his eyelids were sliding shut, as he felt his pulse pounding in his aching head.

She was still talking to him now, but he couldn't respond.

As he faded out again, the mantra continued subtly in his mind.

_Gibbs will find us._


	15. Chapter 15

Abby pulled herself together as well as she could after leaving McGee's room. She knew she needed to get right back to the lab and analyze every particle of evidence, within its subatomic life.

She needed to examine the dog tags and note Gibbs received. The extinguisher had been wiped clean of prints...maybe she could get something else off it. _Something_…

As she watched the streets go by from her cab window, she thought about how wrong the whole night had gone...hours in the waiting room, with Gibbs and Ducky, not knowing if McGee would die or have permanent organ damage… She shuddered.

And maybe they had lost Tony forever. And if he was in the hands of the sick cult killers…

She tried to stifle the sob into her hands, covering her face for a moment. "Tony...gonna' get you back Tony..._please_ be alive..." she let herself cry a bit longer, after holding it in at the hospital for Timmy's sake.

Under the grief and apprehension over Tony, there was guilt. Guilt that she was glad McGee was safe and alive...she really, really loved him. But he was alive, at Tony's expense.

As the cab finally pulled up to the front gate of the yard, she once again attempted to pull herself together, faintly realizing she was still dressed in her golden glitter outfit and shoes from the night before, hair down, disheveled.

She paid the driver and got out of the cab, seeing the security staff gawping at her from their posts. She smiled just a little, thinking if Palmer hadn't driven her car back home for her, with her things, she would still have the elaborate mask with her. What a scene it would make. Tony would love it. She could almost hear how he'd laugh about it, and probably would say the security guys were gonna' think she was moonlighting as a pole dancer.

As she went through the entrance and downstairs security, she couldn't stop thinking about Tony, and wondered if they kidnappers would even call them...or just...kill him...

Tears welled again in her already swollen eyes, and she tried to avoid looking at the people on the elevator who probably thought she was nuts.

She mumbled apologies, pushing her way past one or two agents as she exited the elevator, wanting desperately to see Gibbs and Ziva.

But the bullpen was empty.

Her heart started a little, pounding harder. Where were they all? _Maybe they found Tony already, and they've gone to get him?_ she thought hopefully. _Or maybe...they found his body..._

She rounded the corner to her lab, almost hyperventilating, and saw the door was open. Standing by her main terminal was Gibbs, looking a bit pale and eyes glassy from lack of sleep.

As she walked in, he took in her bewildered and sad expression.

Her watery eyes bore into Gibbs', "Did you find him?"

"No, Abby," he said softly, walking to her to guide her to her seat.

Thankfully, Gibbs put his arms around her as she fell apart again, just for a moment. Clutching at his jacket, she gasped just twice, and blurted into his shoulder, "I've got work to do..."

"Yeah, Abby, we both do," came his soft response.

She nodded and then sat back to look at him.

"Gibbs," she snuffled, and squeaked, " you look awful."

" Yeah...well, how I look doesn't matter right now-"

"We have to find Tony," she finished for him, nodding and taking a deep, still somewhat shaky breath. "Okay, I'm gonna change out of these clothes, and get to work," she said determinedly as she stood up.

But Gibbs put a hand on her arm, "I need to talk to you first."

She sat down again, blinking for a moment in confusion. "_Okay_..."

"How well did you know Mikki ?" Gibbs asked straight away.

"Mikki?" She frowned. "You think Mikki had something to do with this?"

"She had access to McGee's drinks all night. And she and the two pals she brought in to help last night were the only ones not accounted for when Fornell and Ziva interviewed the staff."

Gibbs stared at her, watching her look away for a moment to think.

She tilted her head, and then closed her eyes for a moment, groaning out, "That bitch!" She snapped her head up, looking at Gibbs gravely, "I am _so_, so stupid."

"Whadd'ya mean, Abs?"

"Gibbs, she seemed so... lost, and sweet..." Abby blew out an angry breath. " She treated me like a big sister, asking me about romantic advice...trying to befriend me...she was just to get me talking about us."

"Who?"

"**Us!** You, and me, and Tim and Tony and Ziva..." She groaned and rolled her eyes, and then shook her head." I should have known..."

"What did you tell her Abby?" He said, trying not to sound as tense as he felt.

"_Everything _Gibbs!" She said loudly as she stood up, pacing. "She wanted to know about my life, about my job, about my boss and my friends...she told me she ran away from home and had been through some really rough things herself. And somehow found the shelter...and volunteered..."

"She tell you anything else about herself?"

"No, and that's just it! Because we are so careful about protecting the identity of women and volunteers in the shelter, I never even asked her last name! But, she was just…pumping me for information… Gibbs...what if what I said...made it easier...for her to-"

"Abby," he said firmly,"You couldn't have known. She's either behind it, or a pawn. They have her name in the paperwork at the shelter listed as Mikki Klein. We don't know at this point if it's an alias. We also got a picture from her application. It's being circulated as we speak, and Ziva and Dorneget are trying to track her down as well...but the address she gave on the application was phoney. Are you sure she didn't tell you anything else? Or about her two friends?"

Abby stopped pacing, in her gold glittery shoes. "Only that...her roommates, two guys, were total slobs. And that she lived off Hartman Boulevard and Kresky Street."

Gibbs raised a brow, and Abby read the subtle hope in his expression.

"That wasn't the address she gave, was it?" Abby asked excitedly.

"No," Gibbs gave her a bare hint if a smile, and turned to walk briskly out of the Lab. She sighed as he called over his shoulder, "We'll find him Abby."

She nodded in his direction, and whispered, "Yeah we will," to herself. Then she looked at the bandaid box, dog tags, and note in a baggy on her table, aside the fire extinguisher, and said it louder this time, to reassure herself, "Yeah, we **will**."

* * *

Gibbs had Dorneget and Ziva turn their attention to the cross streets Abby gave him. They were showing Mikki Klein's picture to everyone in the buildings in that area.

Gibbs felt like he had no footing. This was totally out of control. And now Tony's life was at stake.

Fornell suddenly appeared, placing a coffee in front of Gibbs on his desk.

They eyed each other for a moment, before Gibbs looked at the coffee, and muttered his thanks as he picked it up for a sip.

"You look like hell," Fornell said matter-of-factly.

"You've had prettier days yourself," said Gibbs in the same tone.

They both had gotten little, if any sleep in the past 24 hours.

"Any word?" Fornell asked somberly.

Gibbs swallowed, looking down again for a moment. "No," he said, and then looked up at Fornell, tilting his head. "Thought maybe...there'd be something..."

"Some kind of demands...or ransom?"Fornell asked, taking note of the subtle tick in Gibbs left jaw. He knew how close Gibbs and DiNozzo were. This had to be killing his friend.

Gibbs sighed shakily,"Something...more like...to torment me..."

"That's why they took him?" Fornell asked, crossing his arms as he stood next to Gibbs' desk.

"I'm afraid that is _precisely_ why, Agent Fornell," Ducky's voice drifted across the bullpen as he walked in to join them, still in his scrubs. "I think all of the pieces of this puzzle point clearly to someone who is obsessively interested in Jethro, and in making him suffer. If I didn't see those other case files...why, based on just the Colletti case alone, it seems too much the coincidence that a Marine scout sniper would end up dead, with those markings, on Jethro's front door."

"You think..."Fornell started slowly, knowing his words would cause Gibbs even more pain over an already dismal situation. "You think they might...torture Agent DiNozzo...in the same way-"

"Yes," Ducky said gravely, his blue eyes finery with anger,"they will. And they will want Jethro to suffer...I would wager we will hear something from the real culprit behind all this shortly. But...Jethro," Ducky said, with a warning tone,"You've got to find him soon...Tony may not have the time the other victims had."

"You mean...they'll do what they did to Colletti...and the other victims...to Tony?" Gibbs asked, sickened beyond measure. "Duck..."

Ducky leaned to look Gibbs dead in the eye,"They have Tony...but the end game, is _you_, Jethro. And the thrill of being so close to achieving the prime directive..."

"After Tony...Gibbs is next?" Fornell asked quietly.

"Yes," Ducky nodded, " I believe so. And time is of the essence. I believe it may be time, to go to the source."

Gibbs looked away for a moment, and frowned, trying to put it together in his head.

Fornell was confused,"If we _had_ a source. These killings started in California. You mean go back there?"

"No,"Gibbs said, standing up, looking at them both. "The source of the symbols. Malloy."

"He's dead though, Jethro," Fornell stated plainly.

"But his wife isn't."

* * *

That evening, at 19:00 hours, with Ducky at his side, Gibbs rang the doorbell of a grand Victorian house in Elmhurst Circle. Standing on the spacious porch, he noted the elaborate carved Sphinxes that decorated the gold trimmed door, and the antique lion's head knocker. The house itself was mostly purple and brown, a classic Victorian color combination. The windows, also in a mottled, antiqued texture.

"Quite exquisite," Ducky said, running a finger gently along one of the wings of a Sphinx.

Gibbs saw a shadow come to the door inside, and made out the form of a dark haired woman who called out,"Who is it?"

"Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, with NCIS, ma'am. I'd like to-"

The door swung rapidly open, and a woman dressed all in black, reminiscent of the older Sophia Lauren, looked at him with open curiosity."Come in, Gibbs. I wondered if one day, you'd be at my door."

Gibbs was too surprised at her words to respond right away. Ducky quickly stepped forward and said, "Hello, Mrs. Malloy, I am Doctor Mallard, and I am assisting Agent Gibbs. Is it alright if I accompany him in as well?"

She passed a sharp, assessing gaze over him. And then smiled, as if they were all old friends. "Of course, come in!"

Gibbs mutely followed, as they entered likely the most interesting house he'd ever been in.

Old world Russian antiques were everywhere, as were candles, books, ornate mirrors, animal heads mounted on the walls(some draped with pearls and jewelry), and a myriad of art paintings on the walls, all framed in gold gilt carvings. It was absolutely too much to take in.

She lead them to a livingroom/parlor, where she urged them to take a seat. She sat in a purple velvet claw-footed club chair next to the purple velvet sofa they sat on.

"Mrs. Malloy," Gibbs began, but she held up her hand.

"One moment please, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs," she said, with a smile, turning in her chair. She then called out,"Pamela! Pamela! I have guests!"

Ducky exchanged a curious look with him, taking in the whole scene and the woman's oddly familiar demeanor. She obviously knew who Gibbs was. Could this graceful, obviously eccentric woman, be involved somehow with the case?

A girl about the age of twenty, wearing something akin to maids outfit, entered the room. She was a dirty blonde, with a pixie haircut and hazel eyes. She said sweetly, " What can I get for you gentlemen?"

"Nothing, thank you," Gibbs said politely.

Ducky was saying the same, when Mrs. Malloy guffawed and said, "Nonsense." She tilted her head, and narrowed her eyes, and said,"For Doctor Mallard, Darjeeling with orange clover honey, and a spot of cream on the side. And for Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs, give us the Columbian I bought last week but use the French press, would you dear?"

"Yes ma'am, Momma Agnes. Right away," she smiled, and left.

"Very gracious of you," Ducky said almost warily, "and perceptive. Almost as if you know us already,"

"Ah, we'll, I am a psychic, you know. But I do already know...or should I say I feel I know Gibbs, because if my late husband. You, Doctor Mallard, just seem quite refined to me, so I endeavored to guess at the tea." She smiled charmingly at them.

Gibbs, at this point, unsure whether to be suspicious, angry, or amused, shifted a little on the couch. "Actually, we are here to talk to you about your husband, and-"

"And what happened during Desert Storm. Yes. Of course. I always told him one day you would turn up. You see, once you went home, so suddenly from the military hospital, he didn't t get to talk to you. And he heard about what happened to your family...so he decided to leave you be when he came back stateside. I told him...he should have contacted you. All things considered."

This was not what Gibbs was expecting. Agnes Malloy...seemed to know a lot more about her husband's deployment and Gibbs personal business than would be anticipated. _A helluva lot more_, Gibbs thought.

"What things do you mean, Mrs, Malloy?" Ducky asked.

"Please, Doctor Mallard, do call me Agnes. Are you...Gibbs' Doctor?" Her aged but still lovely eyes blinked at him coquettishly.

"Alright, Agnes, and please call me Ducky, as all my friends do." Ducky smiled pleasantly at her.

"Can we-" Gibbs was about to say, 'Get to the point' when Pamela came in with a tray, and proceeded to assemble spoons, cups, and saucers, all antique, in front of them on the coffee table. "Uh, thank you," Gibbs said, and began again. " The reason we're here, is-"

"I know why you're here."

"You do?" Gibbs said, almost at the end of his patience.

She took a deep breath, smile wavering, and said, "My husband told me many things...shared many things with me, from that time. Including the sad fact, that he tried to teach some of his boys our religion, and they just...got it all wrong. He told me he suspected they killed two of the others, and tried to kill you. He thought very highly of you, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. But he had no proof. He even went so far as to approach his next in command, who laughed in his face." She looked down, her jaw twisting slightly, "They told him, he needed solid proof, or he would end up losing everything, his career, his benefits, and maybe even get a dishonourable. Those idiots." She made a face and sighed, looking back at them,"Well, I tried, Gibbs. I told him to contact you. But my husband, he said you were in your own personal hell, and I suppose he was right. Getting hurt...shot like that, and then your family..."

Gibbs frowned for just a moment, feeling his hand shake slightly. This was almost...all too much...eating at his nerves like a rat on a rope.

"You said, he tried to teach them your religion," Ducky lead.

"Ah, yes. You see, Doctor Mallard, we are...well I am, essentially a Satanist...but my husband and I developed some of our own ideas and had our own version of things...but he taught some basics with LeVey's book. _I told him_. I told him that was a bad idea. He wasted his time on those boys. Even that last one...they kept in touch. Kenneth tried to help him. But, after they came home...that poor boy just went to hell in a handbasket."

"Who?" Gibbs asked, almost in a growl, his gut twisting into a pretzel knot.

"Well," she smiled, as Pamela brought in the tray holding a pot of tea, and French press with coffee. "Thank you dear." She looked back at Gibbs, "He goes by the name Black Eddie. But, I believe, you knew him as Teddy Handel."


	16. Chapter 16

Ducky was certain Gibbs had choked on his own tongue.

The woman was just nonchalantly pouring him coffee, as the usually cool SA stared at her, stock still.

He tilted his head, and said in a low voice, "Can you repeat that?"

She sat back and looked at Gibbs. "Oh. I see I've surprised you with that name…Yes, his real name is Ted or Theodore Handel. Apparently, he was injured around the same time you were, and my husband spent some time with him before returning state side. He was your partner, isn't that right?"

Ducky could see the increase in respiration Gibbs was struggling to get a hold of. "How…" he breathed.

"I don't exactly know. All Kenneth said is that you two were injured in the same skirmish. But…Black Eddie's – I'm sorry but, that's the name I got used to – his injuries were fairly extensive…he took a bullet to the brain."

Ducky watched Gibbs with concern, as the younger man seemed to be looking down a bit, reaching into his memory.

"Teddy…pulled me out of a firefight…that's the last thing I remember before waking up in the military hospital…are you saying…" Gibbs looked up at her, stricken, "he got hurt saving me?"

"I can't answer that, I can only tell you most of what Kenneth told me and then what happened once they were home." She leaned over once more, to pour Ducky's tea.

"Oh, no, madam, I can handle this," Ducky said, taking the pot to pour himself while giving Gibbs a moment to try and gain his composure.

She smiled sweetly and nodded.

Gibbs was in his mind for a moment longer, shaking his head to himself. Then he turned to look at Ducky, with tragic eyes, "Duck, when I woke up in that hospital, I heard them talking…the nurses and doctor, about a serious head injury…I thought it was me ! I had no idea…" Gibbs clenched his jaw, and sighed heavily. "_God_," he closed his eyes for a moment. "I never even _thought_ about what happened to him…never asked-"

"Jethro," Ducky said gently, laying a hand on Gibbs' shoulder, "we've been through this, you know what happened back then is not your fault. The circumstance-"

"**NO** Duck ! You _never_ leave a man behind!" Gibbs stood up and paced a bit, with two sets of concerned eyes on him. He stopped suddenly, and seemed to shake it off, looking back to the woman.

He sat down again, and looked at her intensely. "Tell me."

"Alright," she said softly. "When Kenneth came home, upset as he was over what happened with the boys, I think he felt tremendous guilt over you, and also knew you and …Ted Handel… were close over there. Your friend likely did save you, but it was an Iraqi bullet he took to his head. At leas that's what they told Kenneth. Apparently…it…changed him…"

Gibbs swallowed hard. "How?"

"Well," she sighed, "he went back to New York, and from what Kenneth told me, he got into quite a lot of trouble. He wasn't…right. He got involved with the wrong crowd, since he couldn't hold down a regular job anymore, and had problems getting along with people. Before we knew it, he was writing letters to Kenneth about falling into trouble with drugs. And his family sent him out to a high-brow rehab center." She sighed again, smoothing her dress on her lap. "That's when Kenneth sent him the LeVey book…and he started signing his letters, Black Eddie." She shook her head. "I warned him again, but somehow he thought he was helping this young man…"

"It sounds as if the young man needed some rehabilitation…psychological help…" Ducky said, looking down at his cup of tea and wondering if it were safe to drink.

"Oh, why, yes, Doctor Mallard, I agree. But since I did not personally know this young man, I only came to understand his plight through my late husband. Who…continued to try and help him for the next several years…writing letters back and forth, even flying out to Los Angeles to visit him and try and help him. I believe he even gifted the poor soul with his dog tags."

"Did he try to teach him…your religion?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes."

"And…the symbols…in your husband's tattoo…"Gibbs interjected.

"Were crafted by he and I, before he joined the military. Long ago. And they are unique to our version of the path."

"Jethro," Ducky interrupted softly, "one thing at a time." Ducky looked at the dark-haired woman. "What happened to…Black Eddie ?"

She grimaced slightly. And looked at Gibbs sorrowfully, "He ended up in Folsom State Prison."

Gibbs shook his head once more, "The Marine I knew…was a good man. This is just hard to imagine."

"I understand", she said. "But he was…and still likely is, very sick. He was still doing drugs, started his own cult, and actually robbed convenience stores…and then a bank, where one of his cohorts shot a guard and killed him. So…he got a pretty heavy sentence. Kenneth was writing the review board all the time, and writing Black Eddie…trying to help him, trying to help him get out. I suppose he felt if he could just save one…"

Gibbs nodded. "He didn't wanna' leave him behind…" like I did. The thought was suffocating. But feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to help find Tony. "Have you heard from him recently?"

"No," she shook her head. "Once Kenneth passed, I let him know, and he stopped writing."

"Do you…still have the letters?" Ducky asked hopefully.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. I just…had to get rid of them. I had a bad feeling about that young man, and personally, I had wished for Kenneth to just let him go…Once Kenneth passed, I threw them away."

"Well," Ducky said, "I certainly cannot blame you for that Agnes."

"Agreed, Ducky," she said warmly. Then she looked at Gibbs compassionately, "I am truly sorry, for what happened to you and your friend while you were overseas, fighting for our country. But I agree with your Doctor. You should not blame yourself for things that were not in your control."

Gibbs ignored this, going back to the other vital information they needed. "Mrs. Malloy, the tattoo-"

"Our sacred symbols?"

"Yes, you said you developed them. Would anyone else have used them? Did you or your late husband teach locally ?"Gibbs asked, as Ducky listened intently.

"No. I feel they are very…personal, to us. Kenneth chose to share them, with disastrous results. I will not teach or allow anyone else to see them. I also have the tattoo," she winked at Ducky, "but that's only ever seen by my rare intimate partners. And they have been uninterested in the image…being distracted by…other things."

Ducky felt his face redden slightly. "Ah…yes…perfectly understandable. Can you…explain to us, what the symbols mean?"

Suddenly, her warm and flirtatious demeanor changed.

"Doctor Mallard, I do _not _share that information, as I've said, especially after watching the disaster my husband made of each time he did." Her tone was deadly serious.

"I see," Ducky said, and then looked at Gibbs questioningly. Gibbs gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"I am afraid, my dear, that your symbols have been used in a fairly unique and gruesome murder," Ducky said, as they both watched her for a reaction.

Her lips parted for a second, as her dark eyes widened in surprise, and then she frowned. She seemed at a loss of what to say.

Gibbs didn't know whether to feel relieved or not, but he believed she truly did not know.

"I…I…" she shook her head. "Why would someone do such a thing?" And then she scowled. "That is quite…disturbing." She wrung her hands absently . "Pamela!" she cried, twisting back towards the foyer.

The girl came running. "Yes ma'am?" She stopped breathlessly in front of the claw footed chair.

"Get me my big book. You may use the key I have under the Archimedes portrait to fetch it. And a scotch. Double." The woman turned back to them as Pamela ran back out of the room. "I can always find another spot for that key. I will share the meaning of the symbols with you, though I am not sure it would help you. Since I have never shared these with anyone myself, it has to be someone affiliated with those hooligans that were in my husband's unit…" then her eyes widened, "or…Black Eddie…but he's in prison…"

"We are getting closer, to finding the killer," Gibbs stated, but we need to find him quickly." He did not mention Tony, since she didn't need that information to help them.

She nodded. "I understand."

Just then, Pamela smoothly entered the room, handing the older woman a glass with the requested scotch in it, waiting patiently for Mrs. Malloy to put it on the coffee table. The eccentric woman took a gulp before doing so, and then said "Thank you, Pamela, you may go," as she took a very large, black leather-bound book from her servants hands.

They both looked on with curiosity.

She unwound a cord, that encircled the book several times, with small, ruby-like stones dangling from the end of it.

As she opened the book, they could see the large pages filled with writing, and symbols sketched, along with drawings of people, plants and animals.

Her dark eyes blinked several times as she skimmed through the pages, and to their shock, she tore a page out.

"Surely we could have copied the page-" Ducky said, feeling they had forced the woman to deface her own holy book.

With a trembling hand, clutching the paper, and offering it to them, she said, "I fought to keep these sacred for many years, when all the while they have been used in vile and incorrect ways. It's time for me to create new ones, and leave these to the dead."

Gibbs shivered, as he hoped that did not include Tony.

* * *

"Can you reach it?" Tony said in a hushed voice, shivering as his naked skin touched the cold bars of his cell door.

He had taken off his shirt to toss it out towards the bars of the dark cell across from him.

"Jackie?" he called, worried that she had not responded.

"You have to turn around," she said shyly.

"Ohhh," he said, suddenly understanding. "How silly of me," he murmured and turned around to face the dingy walls.

He heard some movement behind him from the cell, and could interpret the sounds of the shirt rustling, going over her head.

After a moment, she shakily said, "Okay, you can see me now."

Tony turned, and in the almost non-existent light, he saw her, seated, huddled against the bars, all long blonde hair and scrawny knees.

"Wow," he said, "it fits !"

She smiled, just a little and looked up at him with blue eyes that reminded him of the color of Gibbs'. "Yeah. S'okay."

"Did they bring you anything to eat today?" he asked with concern.

She shook her blonde mop. "No."

"Did anything happen while I was…out?" he asked, knowing there was a pretty big lapse of time since he's passed out again. He wasn't sure how much time he'd really lost…but it seemed to be evening, based on the lack of light in their drab prison.

"Uh…someone came…"she said, and seemed to start to shake.

"It's okay, honey, just take a breath," he tried to soothe. His blood boiled at the thought of anyone hurting this sweet little girl.

She did, and nodded, "A man…came. And he…scared me."

"Did he…say anything to you?"

"No," she shook her head, "but I…don't like him. He stared at you. For a long time. And you didn't even know it."

He frowned to himself. "No…I didn't. Did he do anything else?'

"No. He just left. I wanna' go home," she added, sounding like she was going to cry again.

"I know, I know sweetheart," he did his best to comfort her. "I have a friend – one of the people I work with – and he won't ever stop looking until he finds us. His job is finding people…and he always finds me."

"That means…he'll find me too," she sniffled, just a little.

"Yes."

"Are you hurt Tony?" she asked with genuine worry.

"S'nothin' I can't handle," he said, still feeling the throb in his head.

Just then, they heard footsteps approaching, and she scampered back into the dark shadows of her cell.

Tony stood back, and watched silently.

There were three. And they had on…black robes? _Shit ! Any time… I'm gonna wake up!_ He thought desperately. He was pretty sure they must be the ones who tried to kidnap McGee…

And one he recognized by the curve of her face and red hair. It was the girl, Mikki, Abby's friend. And then he realized who likely drugged McGee.

They started to unlock the cell across from his, not even sparing him a glance, as he heard frightened panting coming from the darkness.

"What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

They ignored him.

All three filed into the cell, as he heard a scuffle and a scream, "Tonyyyy!"

"**What the** **HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE** !" he bellowed. He gripped the bars of his cell, furious, and afraid.

It was over quickly. Whatever they had done,

They exited the cell, Mikki carrying the girl, now limp, in her arms.

The two men came along, behind her, and slowed to face him. They were all calm, and Mikki was even smiling.

"What did you do to her?" he ground out through a low hiss.

"She's just asleep, Tonytony," Mikki said pleasantly, "She won't feel a thing." And then she took one little step forward. "But you…"she chuckled, "you are definitely screwed."

At that, one of the men, a thin, acne-faced, dirty blonde with brown eyes picked up his hand, showing Tony a hypodermic needle.

He took a reflexive step back.

"You're Abby's friend. Why would you do this Mikki?" Tony asked, heart pounding in his chest. "That's a twelve year-old little girl you're holding."

"This?" Mikki said, motioning slightly with the child in her arms, "This is simply a purification instrument."

He was confused at her words, but felt sick to his stomach none the less…

"It was very lucky you came out to save McGee when you did. I know you're the better choice. I even told _him_ that. But McGee was easier to get to…"

"You knew…from Abby…how he felt about her. Knew if you drugged him he'd be all over her," he said angrily.

"Abby…"she snickered. "She's an idiot. Trying to help everyone all the time. Whether they deserve it or not. What a waste."

Tony swallowed as the moment stretched, and he wondered if there was anything at all he could use as a weapon to fend them off.

"Sylvan!" Mikki called as she slowly walked away with Jackie.

"**Where are you going with her**?" Tony called out, but then saw another man join the two waiting outside his cell.

This one was quite a bit larger, with black hair and eyes. He was sweaty, and held a scowl on his latin features.

Tony eyed the other two, the skinny acne-boy, and the other who he just noticed had curly brown hair and tattoos coming up his neck from under the cape.

They all watched him, with something like…lust…or excitement in their eyes. Were they all high?

That's when he slipped into real desperation, fear making it hard for him to breathe.

He backed away, looking around the cell to find absolutely nothing to fight with. Two he could have taken, but the three…

The big one raised a key to the lock on Tony's cell door. He said in a baritone murmur, "We can do this easy way, or the hard way."

Tony stopped retreating, and actually took a few steps forward, much to their surprise, as he got ready to fight like hell.

He smiled brightly at them and said, "Well…I certainly wouldn't wanna' bore you…"

* * *

Gibbs sat up, dazed for a moment, and then smelled coffee.

"You really need to set up a cot if you're gonna' sleep here Jethro," Fornell's voice registered slowly as his brain came online.

"What time is it?" Gibbs said hoarsely.

Fornell, looking neat and pressed in his usual attire plus trenchcoat, said "O8:00."

"Jesus!" Gibbs griped. "I should have been up sooner!"

"You're doing everything you can, Jethro," Fornell said softly.

Gibbs just shook his head, "Let's hope it's enough." He looked at the tray, which held two more coffees. He raised a questioning brow to Fornell.

The other man just motioned with his chin, and Gibbs saw Ziva, sound asleep under her coat, on the floor by her desk. "For her," Fornell said. "She and Dorneget found Mikki Klein's apartment ."

"**When**?" Gibbs said, getting angry.

"Jethro," Fornell warned, "at 03:00 hours. You were in a _coma_ here. Even you, my hard-headed friend, need to recharge just a little. There was nothing found to ID the men she was living with, nor the girl herself. Apparently, they didn't live there legally. The owner of the apartment hasn't been seen around for a long time…nine or ten months. She told everyone she was the owner's niece."

"You think they killed someone just to use the apartment?"

"Possibly. We are looking for the owner, Frank Reiche, but, he was an old man. Loner. No living relatives. We're following up with the photos, prints, and anything else that we got this morning. It's all coming here to your Lab. And speaking of all the Lab, you might wanna' bring Abby a sedative, because I'm pretty sure she's been up all night studying the page of symbols ya' got from Malloy's widow."

"Probably," Gibbs sighed, and then looked up at Fornell sharply. "Thanks, Tobias..I…"

Fornell shook his head, waving his hand, and sat on the corner of Gibbs' desk, as he asked, "What did you find out about Handel ?'

Gibbs looked at Fornell intensely, and said, "Handel's been out of Folsom since three months before the killings started. NCIS LA will hunt down where he's been since getting out. Vance is on his way back today, and also called to tell them DiNozzo's life may depend on what they find. "

"Ok, I'll have our people look into some of it as well, talk to the LEO's on each of the cases. I can feel it, Jethro. Handel's the one. But…why?"

"I dunno, Tobias. Maybe because he depended on me with his life and I screwed the pooch?" Gibbs scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly.

Fornell took a breath and, was about to say something, when Gibbs' phone rang.

He picked it up quickly, and said, "Okay." And then hung up.

"Abby," Gibbs said, grabbing his coffee as he got up, knowing Fornell would follow him to the Lab.

No music. Dimmed lights. And Abby - never having changed out of her party outfit.

Gibbs' heart twisted. He should have known, she had neither stopped to change, nor probably slept, since she'd come in yesterday.

She was moving slowly, checking through her microscope and turning towards them in her bare feet as they entered.

"Gibbs," She said weakly, "I-"

He went to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder, "You get any rest, Abby?"

"I can't." She said it, almost angrily. "I can't…sleep…I feel sick. I keep thinking about Tony…" her eyes, bloodshot, with dark circles started under them, glittered with moisture.

"Okay, Okay," he said softly, and grabbed her just for a moment, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know."

She nodded, and pulled away, not wanting to start crying all over again.

"I analyzed the dust particles I found on the bandaid tin, and the contents," she jumped in right away. "They are cement particles. Grey in color. Like, institution grey of some kind. The paper, tin, and dog tags had no prints. The tags," she held them up for a moment, "are authentic."

She spaced out for a moment, trying to focus her tired mind.

"Abby?" Gibbs called, worried.

She looked at him suddenly, "Sorry." She placed the tags back on her table. "The extinguisher…had…nothing. The prints were wiped clean."

Gibbs nodded, clenching his jaw a bit. "You look at the symbols?"

"Yes. They made a lot more sense with Mrs. Malloy's notes. And I was pretty close in my original thinking." She walked to her screen and turned on the images of all five symbols, that Gibbs assumed she'd photographed or scanned from the page.

Fornell stood by quietly, feeling as disturbed as Gibbs at the state of near exhaustion Abby was in.

"Abbs, did you take notes?" Gibbs asked her, as she almost swayed in place.

"Uh, yeah," she said, and raised a brow at him curiously.

"Are you going to tell me the same thing you wrote in the notes?" he asked gently, and he saw realization dawn on her face.

"Oh, no, Gibbs…I'm okay, I can-"

"Give em' to me. Now Abbs," he said sternly.

"But I-"

They were interrupted by a very tense Ziva almost stumbling into the room.

"Gibbs!" he knew that sound. It was the Mossad Agent's most terse, almost frightened tone.

For a moment, he thought maybe someone had found Tony dead. They all froze, hearts in their throats.

"Someone left this at the gate for you…I didn't want to open it…" she breathlessly handed Gibbs the envelope.

It was the same handwriting as the note.

"Give it!" Abby said, snatching it away from him and going to the other end of the room to open it under the blue lights of the protective glass box.

Gibbs breathed a small sigh, relieved it wasn't bad news, but his gut twisted painfully, waiting for Abby to open the envelope.

She slipped the letter inside, and then turned the anti-contamination protocols on. She slid her hands inside the gloves, and slowly opened it.

"It's a flash drive," she said. She turned it over in her hands, with them all looking over her shoulder. "Doesn't look to be any prints but I need to give a more thorough look."

"There is nothing else inside?" Ziva asked.

"No," Abby said. She quickly pulled her hands out, and turned off the box. She hesitated opening it up to take it out.

"Isn't it clear, Abby?" Fornell asked.

She nodded and swallowed.

Ziva looked at Abby worriedly, as did Gibbs.

"I'll get it Abby," Gibbs said.

Gibbs grabbed gloves, as not to disturb any latent prints that could be on it, and walked over to Abby's terminal.

Ziva licked her lips nervously, as Fornell and Abby joined her behind Gibbs to look at the screen.

"Any footage of who dropped this off?" Gibbs said calmly, as he inserted the data key into Abby's keyboard.

"Someone wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt, and jeans, and they just left it on the post. They didn't give it to the guards. It was not noticed immediately, Gibbs," Ziva said, looking at him, as he moved back for Abby to look at her screen. "It was an odd hour…they gambled security would be lax."

An icon popped up.

It was a simple black skull.

Abby swallowed audibly, as she double-clicked the icon, and a video loaded, and stood back near Gibbs.

The picture shook a little, as if someone were holding a phone or camera taking the video.

And then they made out the image.

He heard Ziva growl out a pained Hebrew curse, and Abby almost fell down, shaking while Gibbs grabbed her to hold her up.

"Jesus," Fornell whispered, as Gibbs took in the dark picture.

A room, lit by candles, with at least several people in cloaks. Their faces were mostly hidden by hoods. And in the center, was unmistakably Tony.

He was shirtless, wearing the black scrub type of pants they found Colletti in. His wrists were tied down at his sides, and he was unmoving on the strangely tilted table. A bruise or two mottled his pale face and neck.

The sound quality was poor, but a low chant could be heard.

From the left of the screen, someone came closer to the table, holding an ornate brass chalice. Two of the other people, stood on each side of Tony, and as the camera angle zoomed closer, they could see sweat on his ashen brow, and a slight twitch in his arms.

They watched, horror-stricken, as the people around him picked his head up and brought the cup to his lips.

He jerked, pulling against the restraints sluggishly, as he tried to turn his head away. But they wouldn't let him.

For a long moment, he was blocked from view, and then the person with the cup stood back, while the others had hands clamped over Tony's mouth, trying to force him to swallow down the liquid from the cup.

Gibbs wanted to scream or break something, as he heard the pained groan come from Tony as they drew away. They'd obviously gotten him to ingest whatever was in the cup.

"Ohgod," Abby cried softly, knowing herself what it was.

Onscreen, Tony opened his eyes blinking, suddenly convulsing up to spit or vomit, and then there was blood, all over his lips, dripping down his neck, and shoulders.

"Oh!" Ziva cried out, bringing her hands to her face.

Fornell prayed this was not a video showing the end of DiNozzo.

Tony was gasping for breath, trying to keep his eyes open. He seemed to look towards the right, seeing something, which put a look of terror on his face Gibbs had never seen before.

Tony started to struggle, and gasp harder, Moaning, almost sobbing, "_Nonono_…_you sick fucking_-" and with that hands firmly clamped his mouth shut. He blinked and looked up at the tall approaching figure, which appeared from the right. It was a man, and he was holding a branding iron with a bright molten red symbol on the end.

Tony's eyes widened and he struggled, but the bonds at his hands and ankles, and hands over his face and neck, held him firm.

Someone loosened his pants, pulling them lower on his hips. And then the brand came down, over his right hip, as his brow knitted and he tried to brace himself.

Gibbs knew when it hit flesh.

Tony's whole body tensed and arched, as they muffled his scream, until it dwindled, and he passed out.

Abby could barely breathe as she sobbed into Gibbs' chest, as he held onto her for his own sake as well, hands shaking with rage.

They continued the chant.

And then screen went black.

Two words appeared on it in white.

"Four more."


	17. Chapter 17

The Lab was silent, except for the sounds of one or two softly whirring machines and Abby's gasping sobs.

Fornell wasn't surprised when Ziva casually walked over to Abby's trash pail and vomited what little she had in her stomach. He winced, but she seemed to go from almost green to an improved shade of grey for the trouble.

He looked at Gibbs, who was holding Abby up, stoking her hair with an unsteady hand. His eyes were closed, and he was whispering brokenly in her ear, "Shhhh, Abby, he's alive. At least we know that now. And we have time to find him. We will find him."

"Buuut…Gibbss…" she choked, "_what they did to him_…"

"I know, I know…" he crooned sadly. "But I need you to do something for me, Abby. For me and for Tony."

She pulled away and stood straight up to look at him. She was a complete mess. "What?"

Gibbs pulled out a kerchief from his jacket, wiping her eyes, so puffy and almost purple with exhaustion.

"I want you to get a few hours of sleep-"

She made to protest but he held up a hand, "Listen to me. You are about to fall over. DO you **wanna' **end up in the ER, Abby? Because you'll be useless to us all then."

She looked away and mumbled, "No.."

Gibbs continued softly, while Ziva wordlessly, wiped her own face of silent tears and went to pull out Abby's futon for her. "You _will_ lie down, and get some sleep, and then when you get up, you _will _get cleaned up and eat a real meal."

Abby was too drained to protest, and simply nodded. Then her eyes turned to Fornell, and back to Gibbs. "We have to find him Gibbs," she said in a low, angry growl, "and they have to _pay_." Then she looked at the delicate hand that appeared on her arm.

"We will find him, and he will be alive. And they will pay, Abby, I swear it," Ziva said with a steady tone.

Abby nodded, still looking devastated none-the-less, as Ziva led her away to lie down. When Ziva pulled the throw blanket over her, she was already asleep.

Gibbs looked at Fornell with murder in his eyes, the blue color intense and rich next to the red, glittery rims. "They _burned_ him, Tobias…those lunatics..."

"We'll get him back, Jethro, and these sick monsters will all go away for a very, very, long time," Fornell said, knowing that Gibbs wanted more than that. After what they'd just seen… he'd be out for blood.

Ziva approached Gibbs, and he looked at her, in her eyes, to see if she was alright.

He took her gently by the arms, "You okay, Ziva?"

She shook her head, with her dark eyes still glistening, and gave a little laugh, "Of course not, Gibbs. After seeing that…I will not be okay until we have Tony back. And make them all suffer."

Gibbs looked at her a long moment, and then nodded, "Go call McGee, and see how he's doing. We need him here," he said.

She nodded, and then made to leave as his hands fell away, but she hesitated. He was waiting for her to say something, but instead, she fell quickly into him, hiding her face in his chest.

He felt her shaking, and gave her a tight squeeze, muttering, "Okay, okay…"

Then she nodded quickly and left the Lab without looking back at them.

For a stretch, they were silent again, then Fornell said, "Jethro, this is all too close now. I should have…called it the minute DiNozzo was taken. You should let us take over the case. Our people-"

"No," Gibbs said, turning fully to face his long time friend. "Tobias, I _can't _step out of this. Not. Gonna'. Happen." Gibbs took a shaky breath, and quickly dragged his hand through his hair, looking around the Lab a moment, then back to Fornell. "I…created this…situation, whether you think so or not. I left…" he swallowed, and a look of self-loathing passed over him. "I left a man behind. And now I'm paying for it. And _Tony's _paying for it. It has to be Handel…"he closed his eyes, willing the images of the data key to recede, but the wouldn't. "And they're torturing him…because-"

"Because the guy is a criminal, and a mental case, and he took your Agent, Jethro. It's on him, no matter how he got here." Fornell was looking at Gibbs with intensity, and stepped forward. "I know how close you are…to Tony. We will get him back Gibbs. I understand…you could never live with yourself if you weren't involved with the case…and…well, I get it. So, let's both work on finding your boy."

Gibbs looked at his friend, with glassy eyes, and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

He was lying on the cot, shuddering. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought maybe he was in shock…or maybe it was the drugs they injected into him.

He didn't remember how he got there…just that right before he lost consciousness…he'd been strapped to that table…

"No…"he moaned, pushing away the images of what they'd done…and what they made him do. But it was too late. Sickened beyond measure, he heaved, and was too weak or disoriented to move very well.

Dark, crimson liquid pooled on the mattress, some still clinging to his lips.

"_God_," he choked, before actually sobbing weakly and passing out again.

* * *

Some time later, he became aware once more, feeling warmer than he should in the cold cell, and someone was holding a cup to his lips. The burn at his hip pulsed with pain.

"It's water. Drink it," the female voice said.

He was so thirsty, and hot, that it didn't take any reminder. He drank the cool water down, several full gulps, before he heard, "Good boy, Tonytony."

His eyes flew open as she pulled away.

"Mikki…" he said thickly, and recoiled, as if finding a viper in his bed. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't manage it. He was still too weak.

She was in a sweater and jeans…she looked so _normal_…

She was dragging a bucket over, and had some cloths draped over her shoulder. "Unfortunately for me, the boys are all too squeamish to clean you up. And I'm the only chick around here…but anyway, that's the way I like it."

She began pulling his scrub pants off, and he tried to swat her away.

She sighed, annoyed, and looked at him. Leaning over so her red hair actually tickled his stomach. "If you like, I can call them _all _in here, and they'll hold you down again so I can get this done. They already came in and picked you up for me so I could put a new pad down for you. That mess you made was disgusting."

He gave up trying to fight her because while she was talking, the room began to spin a little.

"You…put…somethinnng…n'the water…" he slurred out.

"Oh, you're a genius, Tonytony. You know," she began idly, as he felt her pull the scrubs all the way off, leaving him naked, "it's a great honor, bestowed on you." He heard her wring out the cloth after dipping it in the water. "You are chosen by my Master, to be a holy sacrifice used to strengthen the flock."

He felt the cool, wet cloth pass over his face, and slowly blinked his eyes open to look at her languidly. In a bare breath, he said, "You're all insane."

"Ungrateful bastard you are," she said, continuing to rinse the cloth out before cleaning his neck and shoulders. "And I have to listen to your shit. For some reason, the Master wants you semi-conscious for all of this. Just makes our job a little harder…"she passed the cloth over his chest, and then lifted his arms, one by one to do the same. "The others got more drugs to keep them still."

"Who…who's your…Master?" he murmured with eyes closed again. Though he knew he should be pushing her away, screaming at her, the sensation of being cleaned, touched, was starting to override how much the burn still hurt. He jumped a little though, when she cleaned one of his raw wrists. It reminded him of hands holding him down as he struggled…but that thought left him right after it appeared. He was having trouble concentrating…she was passing the cloth over his belly now, and below that…

"My Master," she chuckled, looking at his body responding to the drugs and her handling him, "Is Black Eddie."

He started to drift now, at the sound of her voice.

"He's been watching you all, for a long time." She sighed again as she dipped and wrung out the cloth again. "And _I_ was the one who set everything up for him here, and did _all_ the recon. _I_ got that stupid Marine from the bar…he was so easy to seduce…though he was really perfect for the Master's purposes. I even got to pick the location to display the sacrifice for Gibbs to see…" She raised a brow as she proceeded to wash his intimate areas. A moment later she grunted at the effort of lifting a leg.

But he didn't care anymore. He just let her words, and hands, wash over him in the haze.

She continued speaking, more to herself than to him anymore. "You were the _perfect_ choice. I told him that. You are closest to his enemy. And you are a killer, Tonytony. The perfect vessel for purification and sacrifice. Not Tim McGee. He barely uses his gun, from what Abby told me. _Stupid Abby_. Thinks she's so great. She gave me every bit of information I needed to orchestrate the retrieval. And now the Master is so happy with me, that I actually don't mind cleaning your filthy body up. "

She looked at his face, now that he was completely out again, and smiled. "I hope you don't throw up again later, because that will make me _very angry_. And the Master won't like it either. And if the Master gets angry…" she shuddered. "We sure don't want that."

She dried him off, and put a new set of scrubs on him, taking the old to be burned in the incinerator downstairs.

And at the last, she pulled a small tube of antibiotic cream from her pocket, and passed a bit over the symbol, red and black against his paler skin.

They hadn't made that effort with the others, but the Master wanted the marks to set perfectly this time.


	18. Chapter 18

A noise jerked him awake.

Immediately he felt the semi-floaty sensation from earlier, and he knew based on that and the perspiration that slicked his skin, he was still feeling the effects of drugs in his system.

He tried to focus his eyes, but it was night, and his chilly cell was dark. Then he slowly became aware of a little bit of glowing light dancing on the walls around him.

Tony shifted a little and then looked at the barred cell door.

There stood a tall figure, hooded and dark, holding a candle with a large, masculine hand. He was still, and Tony could only make out the contours of his jaw, wide mouth, and barely the bottom of his nose. The rest was shadowed by the hood.

Tony couldn't help but be both terrified, and at the same time hysterical with the absolute absurdity of the scene. Maybe it was the drugs, but he actually let out a laugh.

"You're _kidding_, right?" he said, trying to get his sluggish mind to catalog any similar scenes from any horror movies he knew. "I mean...what's next? Please don't tell me I'm having Rosemary's Baby..."

The man was silent, but Tony saw his lip curl in a small, mocking smile.

He shivered, and suddenly felt a wave of heat wash over him, making him swallow and close his eyes for a moment. His stomach lurched, and reminded him that he hadn't eaten in some time...aside from what they'd made him ingest at the ritual. Sorrow and fury rose in him and he struggled to sit up, "You're all beyond crazy," he grunted out, green eyes blazing.

"Most people might say," the deep, calm voice answered from the figure. "But many lack the vision to really see what's right in front of them."

"Why are you doing this?" Tony demanded, struggling to stay upright by leaning against the wall.

The huge man smiled even wider, baring teeth, which made Tony shudder. It was a feral, soulless grin, and it made him feel doomed. "You are chosen, it is your destiny to be the most worthy and useful sacrifice to my Great Master."

Tony snorted, "Well, that's a good reason. What was I thinking, after all?"

The mans voice became icy. "You will not mock the Great One. I have the ability to make you feel much more pain through receiving the seals. And even during the time in between."

Tony glared at him, and said,"I'm a Federal Agent, but you knew that already. And that..."Tony started to choke a little on bile, "...that kid, that beautiful little girl you slaughtered was someone's daughter. You won't get away with this..." and then he couldn't speak any more words.

Remembering what he saw in that room while he was tied to the table, what they made him do caused him to start shaking violently and his breath hitched, stealing his voice.

"I have, and will get away with it. I don't need anyone's permission. You see, it's _my_ destiny. Just like being a killer, and the spiritual son of my enemy, makes you the perfect sacrifice."

Tony frowned, trying to understand. Then his eyes widened and he whispered, "Gibbs."

"**YOU WILL NOT USE THAT NAME HERE**!" the man bellowed, grasping one of the bars of the door with his free hand.

Tony's heart pounded in his chest now, as he jumped at the ferocity of the man's response.

Neither spoke for a long stretch.

The large, white knuckled hand gripping the bars released and fell away. And in a smoother, more contained tone, the man repeated his threat.

"You can be made to suffer a good deal more, so I suggest you behave. I should have known allowing you to be conscious for this would...irritate me. But the reward is paramount. Your suffering pleases the Great One."

Tony looked around the dark for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. They wanted him to be aware of what was happening to him...to make him suffer...because of Gibbs...?

No logic was going to get through to these people. But one thing now seemed right to ask. "Who are you?"

In the dim light of the candle, the man took his free hand, and lowered his hood. Tony saw a weathered face, with a scar running deeply across one temple, and pale eyes that bore into him, as if looking to burn him from the inside out. The hair was actually a high and tight, a pale color with lots of grey...he was familiar...he had to be..."...Handel? _Teddy Handel_?" Tony gasped. In the files on Gibbs' old unit, Handel had been so much younger...but it was surely him.

"That was my name once. But now my followers know me as the Master, Black Eddie." The man stared at Tony for a bit longer. "It was divine intervention that brought you to me, Anthony. I know it is hard for you to comprehend the great honor bestowed upon you. We would have accepted the other, but it was meant to be you."

Tony scowled, as his stomach twisted again painfully. He breathed out, "Why...the others? The other men ? The...one from LA, and -" he gasped, and groaned, leaning over as the urge to vomit overtook him. There was not much left in him, not even the water Mikki made him drink earlier, so it was mostly a dry heave.

"They pleased my Master,"came the soft reply. "And then He and his Angels granted us what we needed to move forward, expand the flock, to plan, and continue our work in moving toward the enemy." The man turned and called out down the hallway, "Apprentice Larimer, come."

As Tony collapsed back down on his cot, head spinning, he heard Black Eddie say, "Get some of the plain water, and some bread into him. Once he keeps that down, then give him the special water. If he doesn't drink it willingly, you make him. You may punish but do not mark the areas to be sealed. Tell the others, and be sure they understand or there will be consequences. The Maiden will be in charge tomorrow while I'm out."

"Yes, Master," answered a younger male voice.

"Also, tomorrow we shall have the next lamb brought in. Make sure it is unharmed, and unmarked. It must be kept pure, as the others."

"Yes, Master," the voice said again.

_The others_. Tony wanted so much to be able to get up, to rip the door open and kill the sick bastard with his own hands. He needed to figure out how to escape, to warn Gibbs, and stop them before they hurt anyone else. Gibbs would never see this coming. How could Ted Handel hate Gibbs so much? And what the hell happened to him to turn him into this psycho? He needed to think...but he was so weak. He fought the urge to pass out again, until it became almost impossible and he just let go.

Black Eddie watched him, from outside the bars, and smiled warmly at the thought of applying the next seal...

* * *

"Abby," a soft, masculine voice called to her. "Abs, wake up." A finger stroked her cheek.

"Huh? Wha-"she murmured as she slowly opened her eyes. A concerned face with big green eyes and bandaged jaw loomed over her. "McGee!" she cried happily, leaning up to grab him in a tight hug, as he struggled not to fall over her. Then suddenly, she let go, as alarm filled her eyes. "Has anything happened? Did we find Tony yet? Ohgod, how long have I been asleep? Where is everyone?"

He took in her still-pale face, clothes that she'd had on since the night Tony was taken, and understood what Gibbs meant when he said Abby was in "rough shape". She even...stunk a little.

"No Abs, no word yet. I just got here and Gibbs asked me to get you up so you can go home and get a little food and sleep." He looked at her worriedly, hand caressing her face.

She slapped it away,"**No! No way**. I'm staying here. I'll just go grab a shower in the gym after I look at that flash drive for prints -"

"No Abs, Fornell's people already processed it for us, and Gibbs told me the reports are already posted. No prints."

She looked enraged, "Who said they could do that? What if they miss something?" She stood up almost shaking with anger.

"Gibbs."

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open a bit, almost speechless for a stretch of ten seconds. A record, in TIm's book. "How could he **do that**? He _NEVER_ does that! This is _TONY_ we're talking about! " her posture become that of a cooked shrimp as she paced a few times. "_How could he?"_

"Abby-" McGee tried to soothe.

"**WHAT** could GIBBS be thinking? OUR TONY COULD BE MURDERED! Any MOMENT! He..." She went from shrieking to sobbing in the blink of an eye, and TIm quickly reached for her, pulling her into his arms as she cried.

"I know, I know Abs," he whispered into her hair, holding her tightly and praying for his SFA.

* * *

McGee walked back into the bullpen, to see Ziva and Dorneget woofing down some fast food. Thai by the smell of it.

"Mmm-" Ziva quickly choked down the bite she had and wiped her hands on a napkin. "McGee, Gibbs and Fornell are in the Director's office. They are apprising Director Vance of what we have as of tonight on finding Tony." She walked up to McGee, eyeing his bandage, and asked gently, "Are you sure you're alright, McGee?"

He nodded at her, "Yeah Ziva. I'm okay. I just had to try to get Abby to go home...Gibbs asked me to...well, she's getting a shower and some food but isn't going home..."

"That may be the best you can do," she smiled sadly at him. "We are all worried."

"Yes," he said and looked down, with a sigh. It was still eating him up inside, that Tony basically got taken saving him. If he had just-

"McGee," Ziva said firmly, dark eyes smoldering. When she was sure he was looking at her, she said, "This is not your fault. This is not Tony's fault, and this is not Gibbs' fault. The one to blame, is the one who is behind all this."

McGee took another deep breath. He knew she was right. And it wasn't going to help their partner to wallow in guilt. "I know. I called Gibbs after you called me. He told me...is it true? His friend did this? Teddy Handel?"

"Yes," she nodded once affirmatively. "And we are all trying to track his whereabouts since being released from prison."

"I can help with that," McGee said, walking over to his desk, "And I should also...view the...video they sent. You guys didn't really say what was on there exactly, which means it must be pretty bad." He blew a puff of air out of his nose. "But I was glad to hear Tony is alive."

Dorneget stopped eating and paled at the idea of seeing that video again. He said nothing, but watched from Tony's desk as Tim sat at his computer to pull up the files.

Ziva seemed to hesitate, not knowing if she should stay by McGee's side as he watched it, or leave him alone.

McGee seemed to sense her dilemma, "I'm fine. I will handle it. We have to find him." He gave her a sincere look, and picked up his headphones to plug them in to listen to the clip while viewing.

Ziva nodded, and went back to her desk, sitting slowly and then passed a worried glance between herself and Dorneget.

They tried not to watch as McGee swallowed hard, hitting the enter key to start the video file.

Ziva closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself not to obsess on the terrifying images McGee was now watching himself. When she opened them, she saw McGee holding a hand over his mouth, and eyes watering as he looked at his screen.

Dorneget closed his half eaten food container and threw it in the trash.

Ziva got up again, and as TIm took off his headphones quickly with shaking hands, she stood next to him, and squeezed his shoulder.

He couldn't look up at her yet, but grabbed her hand with his trembling fingers. He swallowed, and said in a low voice, "M'okay. I...I'm okay..." then he looked up at her with watery eyes, "I'm gonna kill that sonovabitch."

"Not if I get to him first, McGee," Gibbs said softly as he stood in front of Tim's desk, nodding to Ziva as she let her hand drop from McGee's shoulder and returned to hers.

Gibbs took a long look at McGee, at his still wan color, bandaged face, and pained, stricken expression.

"McGee," Gibbs said calmly, "I need you to keep it together, son. Focus." He just continued to look at the younger man, knowing they were all stretched to breaking, but McGee had come back in after just getting out of the hospital. And they needed him.

McGee took a breath and looked down, nodding. He looked back up at Gibbs, "Yes Boss. Let's find Tony."

* * *

By the time Abby returned from the showers and getting some new clothes on, she walked in to quite a gathering in the bullpen. Gibbs, McGee, Ziva, and Dorneget were all looking at the big screen, going over pictures and files on Ted Handel.

Sadly, Dorneget was sitting at Ziva's desk, head sliding off his hand as he fought fatigue. The others stood in their usual place in the center of the bullpen.

They noticed Abby, in clean clothes looking a bit better, as she settled against Gibbs' desk, watching and listening.

Gibbs raised a brow at her just for a moment, and she gave him a weak smile before he turned and continued.

"So far from what our field agents in LA told us, once out of prison, Handel went to live in a half-way house for five months, and then no other known residence was found with his name, or that of his alias "Black Eddie"."

Gibbs stared at the most recent picture they had from Handel's release, his face much different than Gibbs had remembered it. He was thinner, scarred, and his eyes held nothing of the warmth and personality of the man Gibbs had known.

"Well, know he has followers," Ziva said, "Perhaps he stayed with one of his early recruits and that is why there is no clear trace of him? If he was very careful, he would probably use them for housing and anything else he needed without using his real name or identity..." She frowned a little, as it occurred to her he could be nearly impossible to trace if that were true.

"It would make sense, Boss," McGee said. "The staff at the ball for Abby were young. Mikki was from a broken home, if any part of what she told Abby was true. He could have found someone out in LA, young, alone, down on their luck. Or more than one, and banded them together. And you know, that's how cults operate, preying on weaker individuals who are just too young or mentally unstable to know better..."

"We only have one picture of Mikki Klein from the women's shelter Abby works at," Gibbs said, clicking a few times to pass through files and settling on the young woman who served them at the Bacchanalia.

"That _bitch_," Abby hissed, and they all turned to her for a moment. "If I ever get my hands on her," Abby said in a low voice,"I've come up with three new ways to leave no trace."

But suddenly McGee jumped to his desk and typed furiously as they all looked at him with curious alarm.

"McGee?" Ziva called, and Dorneget stood up aware that McGee was onto something.

"Boss," McGee said with controlled excitement, "I know who she is! I mean now. She had a mask on at the Bacchanalia. I know who Mikki Klein really is."

McGee jumped up as Gibbs passed him the clicker.

They all looked as a picture of Mikki came up on screen, except it was a much younger looking photo, with the word "Missing" across it. It was from and old missing persons report.

The name across the top was Michelle Grassman.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Many profuse apologies on the delay in this latest chapter post. I actually "ran away" for two days to a hotel in order to have some time to write. And of course, my boss still begged me to do some work...and she's a good boss. So you know what happened. Several more chapters to go, and sooner than later ! Hope you enjoy. Gibbs is getting closer...

* * *

"How do you know this, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Abby jumped up from her perch and stared at the picture with hands clenched at her sides.

"W-Well, ah, when we were reviewing the Grassmans and checking into their background, I saw this picture of their daughter, but nothing seemed relevant to our case at the time. There was nothing to tie the Grassmans into LC Colletti's murder." McGee jumped back to his computer to begin data searched on Michelle Grassman.

"McGee," Gibbs said sharply, walking to his desk to get his things, "You call me the minute you have anything on her. Ziva you're with me."

He spun to leave.

"What about me Agent Gibbs?"Dorneget asked as the older man followed Ziva toward the elevator.

"Make sure Abby eats, Dorneget."

"Um, ah…okay…" He said, unsure whether or not he' been given a difficult task, based on Abby's sour look.

* * *

As Gibbs drove at breakneck speed to the Grassman's estate, Ziva stole a few glances at him.

"If Michelle Grassman belongs to this…cult of Black Eddie-"

"Ted Handel," Gibbs corrected. "He was…Teddy Handel…"he swallowed back the sickness and guilt assailing his heart, in favor of staying clear headed for Tony's sake.

She scowled, "Ted Handel, then. If that is the case, then leaving Colletti's body on their property-"

"Could be a reflection of how she feels about her family…or how Handel does. It has to be related," Gibbs finished for her.

"Or they were in on it…" she added.

"Or they were in on it," Gibbs agreed. But his gut told him they were not. Their records were unremarkable.

She sighed softly, "Gibbs…"

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I know."

* * *

When they sat down in the striped satin wing chairs, in the Grassman's sumptuous living room, it was all Gibbs could do not to grab Michelle's father by his polo collar and scream out his questions.

Mrs. Grassman, who sat straight up on their formal sofa, was a petite, auburn haired woman, who looked half the size of Ziva, if that were possible. Her hazel eyes refused to meet theirs as her husband, seated beside her asked, "What's this about Michelle?"

Mr. Grassman had dark, thick hair, peppered with grey, and sharp, angry brown eyes which flashed his discomfort at the topic of his daughter.

"When is the last time you talked with your daughter, Mr. Grassman?" Gibbs asked while Ziva stared between the two people seated before them.

"I haven't spoken with my daughter since she humiliated me by running away without a word to us. We filed a missing persons report only to find she was simply living in California, shacking up with some dirtbag convict."

The man sniffed disgustedly at having to admit to what transpired with his offspring. "Her mother and I went out to LA, to try and bring her home, but she was content to live in a rundown shithole with some older derelict she must have picked up in the gutter."

Ziva raised a brow at how crass the man sounded, given such a genteel setting.

Mrs. Grassman sighed softly and looked around the room, looking annoyed but more or less stone-faced.

"You didn't know who the guy was?" Gibbs asked.

"No. Other than Michelle told us he had been in prison and they were both starting fresh. He didn't stick around when her mother and I were there."

"And you have never spoken with your daughter again, Mr. Grassman?" Ziva asked, somewhat incredulously. "Because she chose an undesirable partner?"

"**No**!" He barked, as his wife stiffened beside him. "That's only _one_ of many reasons why! You people have a lot of nerve-" his voice was rising, but a tiny weathered hand on his arm stilled him.

"Robert," his wife said calmly. "Please."

He looked at her, and seemed to force himself to disengage from his fury.

So instead, she asked with a tremble in her voice, "Is Michelle alright? Is she…"the fear and anguish in her eyes coming across clearly.

"No," Gibbs said, shaking his head. "She's alive. But involved in the kidnapping of a Federal Agent, and we need to find her. Now."

Mr. Grassman gasped, "**Kidnapping**? _**Jesus Christ**_!" He jumped up angrily and spun around to point at his wife. "This is your fucking fault! We should have dragged her back home! I _told_ you!"

His wife recoiled, barely able to respond before he continued his rant.

"If I had known the trouble that bitch would cause, I'd have let her run down my leg instead of fucking you !"

Ziva and Gibbs both raised their brows at the ugly comment.

"**HEY**!" Gibbs yelled, jarring the man out of his frenzy. The dark eyes turning on him, but before he could respond, Gibbs barked "**Sit down! NOW!**"

Ziva was eerily still, waiting to see if they would need to subdue the obviously imbalanced man. She wondered vaguely if his daughter had inherited some kind of mental illness from him…

Grassman sat down with a huff, while his wife, now red-faced with embarrassment, ignored him and turned back to Gibbs.

"Michelle had issues with alcohol and drugs. And by the time she decided to stay with that _man_ in LA, we were too tired to fight anymore." Her husband was looking away from them, finding something on the wall interesting. "She called him Eddie. But other than that we don't know who he is. We didn't ask. And even later when…"she paused, glancing nervously at her husband. "When she called me asking for money, she never spoke about him to me."

Her husband looked at her, slack-jawed. And then he hissed, "You sent her _money_? Are you outta your mind?'

Mrs. Grassman looked at her husband sadly. "Yes. Yes Robert. I sent our daughter money from time to time to help her. She's still our daughter."

The man looked about ready to explode, but remembered they were in mixed company, so he stood abruptly and stormed out of the room without another glance at them.

Mrs. Grassman sighed, and brought her trembling hands to her neck, as if to massage herself and relieve her tension. "I'm sorry," she breathed out. "Robert and I…have some differences of opinion when it comes to Michelle. I've never been able to help heal the rift between them."

"So," Ziva said gently, "You have been in touch with her and he has not?"

"No," the woman said sadly, "he didn't know. I couldn't tell Robert I was talking with her…you've seen how he gets. And Michelle…is no different about him. She's…secretive. Just calls to tell me she's okay. And when she needs something."

"Mrs. Grassman, how have you been sending your daughter money?" Gibbs asked.

"Ah, by check mostly. Sometimes money orders from the post office. It depended on whether or not Robert was home. I have my own checking account…" she glanced around nervously. "He also doesn't know about that."

Gibbs could feel they were getting closer…"When is the last time you sent her a check?"

"Last month. To an address in DC…Hartman Boulevard. It was killing me she was so close…I thought about going to see her…but I was afraid. I was afraid of what I would find. And now you say she…she's involved with something like this….I should have gone to her. I sh-should've…"the woman's voice broke finally, as she let out a bare hiccup of a sob. She struggled for her composure, and remained calm though her tears fell readily.

Gibbs new that address was likely the exact same one where Mikki was staying with her cohorts. Illegally.

"Can you give us the exact address? And your checking account information. We could look it up but you'd save us time. It will make it easier to find her." Gibbs put his hand on hers for a moment. "I know you want to protect her, but the best way you can do that is help us find her. She's not in good company." Gibbs wanted the information asap, but could not help but feel some degree of compassion for this woman, a mother, torn between her husband and her daughter.

"Yes," she nodded tearily. "I'll go get the address and my bank info for you." She then rose from the sofa and left the room.

"You think this will help lead us right to Tony, yes?" Ziva asked Gibbs, feeling anxious and optimistic at the same time.

"It will," Gibbs said, with his famous gut in absolute agreement. He was determined. Tony would not be left behind.

* * *

They had mercifully given him more water, and some food. But sadly, he knew it was drugged. And he did sip the water, knowing he needed to in order to avoid dehydration, but he did so sparingly because he didn't want to be too out of it. He ate the bread while trying not to think about anything at all.

They had to be looking for him. Gibbs would find him. Gibbs _had_ to find him. But then…he'd have to tell Gibbs what he'd done.

And maybe Gibbs would look at him like he was a monster.

At this point, maybe he was.

As terrible thoughts circled in his mind, he heard footsteps approaching.

Much like a dark-cloaked phantom, Mikki appeared, holding another limp child in her arms. Dark ringlets of hair dangled about the child's limbs, swaying gently with the woman's steps. Until she stopped by the cell across from his where they had kept Jackie…

Tony almost choked, and moaned out loud in despair, as Mikki glanced at him and smiled. The two men who usually manhandled him were with her, and one of them opened the empty cell door for her.

She walked in and carefully deposited the little dark haired girl somewhere in the shadows of the cell. Likely on the cot shoved into the corner there.

After a moment of rustling, she exited as the door was locked behind her. She held the little pink pants and tee shirt in her hands, and casually sauntered over to gloat at Tony. She paused for a moment to look over her shoulder at the pock-faced young man, also in his cloak. "Tell Black Eddie the package has been safely put in it's place." She shoved the clothes at the other man. "Take these down to the incinerator and burn them."

"Yes Mikki," he responded and they both walked away.

Tony was shaking again, with rage and terror, that they had kidnapped yet another child. He found he had no words, the horror of it soaking through his soul, so he just looked at her with the darkest poison he'd ever felt for another human being.

"It seems our usual schedule has been shortened in your honor," she smiled sweetly, with ice dripping from her words. "You don't have all that long really, before all the sacred symbols are in place on your skin. I suggest you drink all your water. And soon. It's the only reprieve you may get. Otherwise…Black Eddie wants you very, very, aware of the ritual. Every step."

He closed his eyes, wanting to be sick. The memories from the first ritual shuffled throughout his mind. He wanted to die, thinking of the little girl he had reassured. He told Jackie everything would be okay. He promised her. She trusted him. And then they murdered her. And made him –

Suddenly he lurched forward, vomiting up the small bit of water and bread he had eaten, while Mikki laughed at him.

"Oh well, I think you're having trouble keeping that down," she said in mock sympathy. "I suppose we might need to give you a shot anyway. Just enough to make you…reasonable."

"Go fuck yourself," he muttered, wanting to see her thrown off a cliff somewhere, preferably into shark infested waters.

She snorted at him, and turned, calling some of the cloaked bastards to come and bring her some "zen".

He shivered, furious but also afraid at the feral grin spreading across her face. "I'm only responsible to make sure you are awake enough to see everything tomorrow night. Today? Well,…" she leered, "that's another story. I like you pumped full of our special poison, helpless…like a baby."

This time when they came into the cell, he didn't resist. Cold despair inside him made it seem not worth the effort to fight. Still, they held him down, while Mikki took the needle and plunged it roughly into his arm as he winced.

_Please, Gibbs. Please come soon_, he prayed desperately.

She waited a moment, and he could feel the burn of the shot fade while the drugs turned his body into a warm, disoriented mess.

She stroked his face for a moment, humming while the men continued to hold him down. He wasn't sure what made him say it, but he couldn't help it. "You're all gonna' be dead, or rotting in prison soon," he said slowly, feeling himself smile, as his limbs began to feel heavy.

They didn't seem to hear or care.

She finally nodded at them,"Go."

The hands released him, and as they left the cell, Mikki looked down at him, almost lovingly.

"Please…Mik…Mikki…" he was starting to have trouble forming words. "Let the…let the kid go…"he wasn't beyond begging for the child's life, thought he knew it was likely futile.

She giggled.

Her fingers wandered over his cheek, and then his lips. He shuddered, wanting to break her arm for the touch, but feeling himself respond to her regardless. He grew frustrated at his body reacted to her, and he struggled to hold onto the anger. It was lessening…and irrational thoughts of reasoning with her started to emerge in his awareness After all…she couldn't be so bad...

"God," he choked, realizing the drugs were making him…compliant. Like LC Colletti must have been…

She let her hand trail down his chest, his stomach, and he closed his eyes, panting, as she cupped his groin.

She leaned over, and whispered to him, "I don't think you want me to fuck _myself_, Tony-Tony, I think _you_ wanna' do it, don't'cha?"

He let out a strangled groan, and tried to push her away but it was very little use. He was hard and throbbing in her hand. She squeezed harder, hurting him.

"Well, that's not gonna' happen,"she breathed across his throat, dragging her tongue over his adam's apple.

He grunted in frustration, turning his head away from her, towards the wall.

She stilled, staring at him for a span, and then let go of him.

"I belong to Black Eddie. And you," she said, standing up to leave, "you belong to the Devil."

_Why not_? He thought as unconsciousness began to creep over him_. I'm already in Hell._


	20. Chapter 20

Gibbs looked over McGee's shoulder. It was 19:00 hours.

"Put it on screen," he nodded as Ziva approached, and Fornell as well.

McGee hit a few keys and then stood up with the clicker. After two frames, he arrived at a list of bank transactions.

"Each of these locations are places Michelle Grassman aka Mikki cashed checks her mother sent her." McGee scratched at the bandages still on his jawline.

"Jesus," Fornell breathed. "All of the murders occurred in cities she lived in, and the dates of the checks... "he walked to Tony's empty desk, to the case files they had laid on it. Fornell flipped through and shook his head. "Unbelievable. The dates are the same week or within a few weeks of the murders."

"The last few checks have been cashed here in DC," Ziva said. "Except for one in Barclay, just two weeks ago!"

Fornell was already on the phone, getting his men to the check cashing location up in Barclay, near the Blue Ridge mountains.

"I have another idea too…for a search…," Abby said behind them.

As Gibbs turned, Abby handed him a coffee from the café down the street, as she put down the carrying tray with other drinks on it for the team.

Gibbs gave a bare smile at the idea Abby was bringing him a drink, instead of his bringing her a Caf-Pow.

"What's your idea?"he asked, as Fornell hung up the phone with his people.

"Well," she said quietly, looking around for a moment to gather strength. "About the…blood…"she felt sick even saying it. "The human blood the victims…were forced to drink…and Tony…"

Gibbs nodded, with a dark expression, "Came from somewhere."

She took a deep breath as Tim and Ziva both paled. "I think we should look for a correlation to the cities Mikki stayed in, the murders, and missing persons reported at the same time."

"You think they're…killing other people too, for the blood, before the final murder?" McGee asked.

"Maybe," Abby replied softly."I mean, to fill a…cup with it…a big one…I'm not sure I see someone just donating that…"

Gibbs nodded to her. "Go. Do it."

She quickly turned and made for the lab.

"McGee-" Gibbs began, but McGee was already at his desk, sending Abby all the information.

"Onnit Boss," McGee said.

"So," Fornell said, grabbing a coffee, "I have agents heading up to Barclay to the check cashing facility, and if they're closed, they will try to get the owners to come in and open up to get security footage. At the latest it will be in the morning."

Gibbs nodded in thanks.

"I will start researching facilities or areas around Barclay to see if there are any building locations abandoned or secluded enough for…"Ziva said, but couldn't finish her sentence. In her mind she knew they needed places far enough away from the main stream to conduct the horrible rituals.

"Okay," Gibbs said gently to her, "see what you can find."

She went to her desk and smacked Dorneget, who had fallen asleep in her chair and was drooling on her deskpad.

"Wha?" he jumped with a start. He looked around warily, realizing he had fallen asleep. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-"

"It is alright, you are very tired like the rest of us. You needed a catnap," Ziva reassured him.

He got up and looked at Gibbs. "What can I do?"

"Help Ziva," Gibbs said.

Dorneget nodded and sat at Tony's desk to use his computer.

Fornell watched Gibbs' face for a moment, while gazing at Tony's desk. A myriad of emotions flitted across the icy blue eyes. When Gibbs realized Fornell was watching him, the shutters came down.

"Let's go to your office and talk," Fornell offered, keeping his voice low.

Gibbs looked annoyed at him for a moment, and then sighed and turned to walk to the elevators.

* * *

As they both stepped on and the doors closed, Fornell leaned against one wall casually.

When Gibbs hit the switch and the blue light went on, he asked, "What's up?"

"You holdin' up okay, Jethro?'

Gibbs glared at him. "Why? Do I _look like_ I'm fallin' apart here, Tobias?'

Fornell snorted at him, and smiled a little, but then his face became serious. "I know you Jethro. Your team is strung out. Vance is even still in his office, sleeping on his too short sofa. And don't give me any crap about being fine. These crazy sonso'bitches took DiNuzto. And God knows what-"

"Don't you think I'm aware of that Tobias? **Don't you think I know they're drugging him, and he's on his own, hurt, wondering when we're gonna come for him? Don't you think I **_**know that**_**?**" Gibbs' voice had begun to rise as his posture stiffened. "After they…"He swallowed harshly and clenched his jaw, and suddenly punched the wall next to him.

Fornell didn't even budge, watching Gibbs pant with anger and grief, and then lightly shake his hand as he refused to look Fornell in the face again.

"_That_ had to hurt," Fornell said plainly. He knew his friend needed to express some of the fear and anger he was feeling for his missing SFA.

Gibbs took a deep, shaking breath and turned around to lean against the wall of the elevator, sagging a bit.

After another moment of silence, Fornell said, "We're getting closer."

Gibbs nodded, breathing deeply one more time. "Yes."

"Jethro, look at me."

Gibbs tilted is head and looked at Fornell in mild annoyance, eyebrow raised.

"I'm gonna keep reminding you of this fact, as many times as I think it needs to be said. This is not your fault. And I know Tony would say the exact same thing."

Gibbs looked away, and then stood. He was still for a few moments except for rubbing his swollen knuckled once. Then he shook his head and hit the elevator stop to resume the ride.

As Gibbs got off the elevator to go see Ducky, he turned back briefly to say, "I think you learned how to nag the hell outta' me from Diane."

Fornell smiled as the doors closed.

* * *

Autopsy was dark, and quiet. Gibbs knew what Ducky was doing. He was looking over all the cases. And ruminating…

He barely heard Gibbs come in.

"Duck?" Gibbs called, and Ducky finally looked up from the files.

"Ah Jethro. How are you holding up, my friend?"

"We got a lead."

Ducky took a deep breath as his eyes widened. "That's wonderful! The sooner we can get our Anthony away from the clutches of those…people, the better!"

Gibbs continued to look at his old friend.

Ducky's glasses glimmered in the dim lighting as he shook his head, "Ah yes. I see."

"What, exactly, do you see?" Gibbs asked tiredly.

"You're wondering what this confrontation will be like when it happens."

"If it happens, Duck," Gibbs said, leaning on the edge of Ducky's desk and crossing his arms.

"Oh, I think you and I know it _must _Jethro. All of what this man has done, in the very disillusioned guise of some kind of religion, has been about building up his nerve to confront you. He hates you. And because of that, you know on some levels he also still cares…but also feels that you wronged him. You may be able to…reason with him if you have to, but do not second guess yourself Jethro. He is not you burden of responsibility, he is your _enemy_."

Gibbs clenched his jaw and looked away.

"I know I need not tell you that Tony's life may depend on your ability to keep yourself focused, and not wrapped up in the past."

Gibbs looked back to the ME. "Hard to do, Duck, when the past comes back to bite you in the ass."

Ducky nodded, "Yes. Very true. But I feel compelled to tell you that this man, and some of his cohorts, are suffering some deep psychoses likely exacerbated by drug useage. If cornered, they may very well be-"

"Unpredictable," Gibbs finished.

"Yes. Take nothing at face value my friend."

"I never do, Duck."

* * *

When Gibbs returned to the bullpen, Fornell and Dorneget were gone.

"Where's the Probie?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh…w-well,"McGee stammered, as Ziva got up from her desk.

"I sent him home," Ziva said calmly, but eyes watching Gibbs warily. "To get some rest for a few hours."

Gibbs stared at her.

"He…was so tired he went and puked in the mens room Boss. He didn't want to tell us how bad he was feeling." McGee tried to diffuse what he thought was coming.

They were both surprised when Gibbs said, "Okay." And simply went to sit at his desk. "Fornell ? he asked.

"Had a call from his headquarters on another case and said he will be back in the morning, but to call him if we get something solid," Ziva said and went back to her desk.

"Anything yet?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, ah, Barclay is actually a pretty big resort town, but busiest during ski season and summer," McGee began, more populated because it's the county seat…making it sizeable to look through." McGee scowled, feeling the stress of every second that went by, that Tony was still in the clutches of the madman Black Eddie.

Gibbs eyed him.

McGee was ghostly pale, the scratches and bruising on his face a lovely shade of purple.

Gibbs got up and walked to McGee's desk.

McGee's impossibly big eyes widened, uncertain if Gibbs was going to have a much expected blow-up.

"Go down to the lab and catch a few hours on Abby's futon," Gibbs said calmly. "I'll take over and make a list of places with Ziva. Once we compile, we will copy Abby to see if anything could work as a match to the dust she pulled from the evidence so far."

McGee opened his mouth to protest, but Ziva chimed in. "He is correct. We can handle this. And you can relieve one of us later if we need."

He nodded, feeling almost lightheaded anyway by this point, "Okay, Boss. But you'll wake me right?"

"If anything happens, we'll wake you, or Abby will," Gibbs smiled, knowing Abby might wake McGee up with a yell or a shriek if she found anything. "Better get the rest while you can."

* * *

To make McGee more comfortable, Abby lovingly laid a blanket over him, and kissed him on the forehead, but he was already asleep. She sighed into the ambient white noise of her lab. She had input all the data necessary to run missing persons searches correlating with the dates surrounding the murders.

She sat while she watched McGee sleep, tears welling up when she thought again how she almost lost him. And how they could still lose Tony.

_Tony._

She shuddered, wondering what it was like for him right now, and suddenly she couldn't sit there and think anymore or she felt like she'd go insane. So she gathered supplies, and started cleaning the lab.

* * *

It was night again when Tony came to.

The familiar drug sweat was on him, and his mouth felt like sandpaper.

But as earlier, the bottle of water sat in his reach.

He moaned.

And then he heard sniffling, and remembered the child.

"Shit," he whispered to himself. He felt sick to do it, but he knew he needed to talk to the kid, reassure her, just like he did Jackie. Gibbs had to be coming _soon_, right?

He tried to sit up, and a wave of dizziness assailed him. He slowed his movements, but eventually got up, and dragged himself along the wall until he got to the bars where he sat and leaned up.

"You okay kid?" he called out softly into the shadows.

Sniffling continued with a squeaked, "No."

"Are you hurt?"

"I…sk-skinned…m-my knee. It h-hurts," she hiccupped the words out in between sniffles.

He remembered they took her clothes, just like Jackie, and he sluggishly removed his shirt.

Tossing it across to the other cell bars, he said, "I just tossed a shirt over you can wear sweetheart, okay? I can't see very much because it's dark, but I can turn around til' you tell me it's okay. Why don't you put it on, since it's cold in here."

He turned, hearing her continue to sniffle, and waited.

It took some time but she eventually got it and had quieted down.

"You got it?" Tony asked.

"Y-yes," she answered in a slightly higher timber than the other little girl's voice had been.

He took a breath through his nose and released it. He felt sick beyond belief, but he had to say what needed to be said. He prayed to God it would be the truth.

"We're gonna be okay, my friends are gonna come to break us outta here."

"They are?" she asked hopefully.

His heart was breaking, and his voice trembled but he got the words to come out as calmly as he could,"Yes. I'm a Federal Agent, a policeman, so I know they're looking for me."

"I wanna' go home," she said weakly, echoing the same words and fear Jackie had felt.

"What's your name sweetheart?" he asked, and was grateful she couldn't see his face, for the tears now running down to his chin.

"Ashley Rose."

"I'm Tony, Ashley Rose," he answered with her full name.

"Ash," she sniffed." Everyone calls me Ash."

"Do you…remember how you got here honey?" Tony asked, just to see if he could get any ideas on where they were, and how these psychos could get their hands on another kid so fast.

"I was playing with m-my friend Lisa a-at the Park, and a m-man t-told me he saw a puppy all alone around the c-corner from the swings…"

She seemed even younger than Jackie. Tony closed his eyes, knowing the poor girls parents would never be able to forgive themselves for her disappearance. He had to find a way to get her out of this. Before…he blocked out the other thoughts.

"What happened then?"

"I wanted to see the puppy, a-and Lisa didn't want to because she was afraid…but I w-wanted to see…" she started crying again.

"It's okay, it's okay Ash, just talk to me okay? I'm here."

She calmed a bit again.

"I went to the corner and there w-was a doorway to the.. b-building where he said it was…and then he…" she started hyperventilating, "He…put…his h-hand …over my mouth…and I couldn't breathe…and my neck got a pinch…"She let out a low wail, sobbing, crying out, "And I w-woke up h-here…"

"Okay, shhhh, it's okay," he desperately wished he could hold the little girl, and comfort her properly.

"Your f-friends are coming?"

"Yes." He said with all the certainty he could muster.

"When? W-when are they coming?"

"Soon. Hopefully tomorrow," he replied. "Where are you from Ash? What town?"

"Barclay," she said.

He continued to talk to her, until she calmed a bit more, and he even convinced her to try and lie on the cot and rest. She pulled the thin mattress off the metal frame, and laid it on the floor, near the bars, to be closer to him.

When she started to cry again, he counted backwards from three hundred, hoarsely and exhausted again himself. Around two hundred and fifteen, they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

"Tell me Master…please…"she whispered out as she writhed beneath him.

"You are my sacred concubine, most trusted disciple. You are my Queen," he panted those and other more nonsensical words out as he moved in her, in the dark of their bedroom.

"Yes…I love you Eddie…"she scratched and clawed at his skin. "I'd do anything for you Master…anything…"

"Yessss," he grunted, and then jerked hard a few times before he finally stilled and moved off her. Their sweat permeated the air, and he brought the covers up over them as she curled up against him.

"Tell me again," she asked, "where we're going after you destroy your enemy."

He stroked her hair with his large hand, and sighed.

"Once I finally defeat him, the Great One will reward us. We will receive more wealth and the means necessary to leave this country. And we will take our flock, and make a new home in South America, somewhere along a beach…"

"And we'll make love under the moon, and listen to the ocean every night," she said, not thinking about the realities that would occur to most people. Like the fact that she'd had to call he mother for money numerous times. And hid it from her Master. She knew it was wrong, but he _had_ told all his disciples to take from what they could find. He had just assumed it was all the ritual work bringing them in money. The others found their own ways to beg borrow or steal for Black Eddie and the Great One.

Ever since Black Eddie met her parents, way back in LA, he hated them and forbade her to speak of them.

She felt badly, about not telling him she still spoke to her mother.

She was careful. She only called collect from payphones, when she was out running errands for him. He insisted on being untraceable, a ghost of a sort, so he could sneak up on the enemy. SO she did everything for them, because she believed in him, and she loved him, and they shared everything together.

Except for the two lies…

The one where the money she got came from.

And the other, about where she decided to drop the body of the last sacrifice. On her parents property. Just to let NCIS harass her Dad.

She wasn't sure she should tell him, but maybe he would be happy about that.

In the darkness she said, "I did something in serving you that was a little selfish, Eddie."

"Oh?" he said, half asleep by now, absently stroking her hair.

"The place where we dropped the body for NCIS to find…"

His hand stilled, "Yes?"

"Well, it was my family's property."

The movement was so quick, she had no idea how to react. He was on top of her, the one hand that was just tenderly stroking her now closing off her windpipe, like a vise around her neck.

"You. Did. What?" he hissed.

She clawed at him, and tried to pull his hand from her throat.

When he realized she couldn't answer, because he was squeezing too hard, he released the pressure but kept his hand where it was.

"I-" her heart was pounding with fear in her chest. "I hate them..." she gasped, feeling humiliated that she had disappointed him and made him this angry. " I wanted them to be harassed by NCIS. And there's no way to connect anything with me. My parents wrote me off…you know that…I thought you'd be amused…"

"Amused?" he asked in a low growl. "You know how long it's taken for me to get here, and you take a stupid risk like that? I need to trust you."

"You can Master!" she begged, "Please forgive me! I couldn't help it…"

He was silent, and she closed her eyes wondering if he was going to kill her for her disobedience.

He released his hand, and sighed. "You do a lot for me, and I know it's not an easy job, to run the flock for me. To get our supplies…I do trust you, but that was not a good choice. I understand. But let me be clear," his voice carried the definite threat, "you do not make a decision like that again without consulting me first. "

She nodded wordlessly, feeling her body release a wave of sweat with the relief she felt.

"You will be punished tomorrow," he added, "so you don't forget."

She trembled, knowing whatever he had in store, wouldn't be pleasant. And in her heart, she prayed to the Great One to forgive her too, and that Black Eddie never find out about the money from her mother or the phone calls, because now she knew without a doubt, another mistake on her part might mean a permanent separation from him.


	21. Chapter 21

It was barely dawn.

She had very cleverly parked the van around the block, on the other side of the wooded lot behind the house. She crept into the back door, after easily finding the key where it was always hidden, outside, under the garden gnome.

She held the dagger close, under the black cloak Black Eddie had instructed her to wear during this act of contrition.

Holding her breath, she closed the door behind her carefully, with the gloved fingers of her other hand.

Heart thudding softly in her chest, she took in the sight of the sunny yellow kitchen, and remnant scents of the Italian-style meals she once took part in preparing with her mother.

She prayed to the Great One, that things were still the same. That her parents slept in separate bedrooms at opposite ends of the house.

Her Master and lover had sent her on a mission to redeem herself.

She was to bring back the head of her father.

Or not come back at all.

Her stomach tightened, and her hands began to tremble as she stepped lightly on the bottom step of the ornately carved mahogany staircase that went up to the grand home's second story.

Seeing the old paintings on the wall on her way up, she thought nothing really looked different.

And her mother was likely still on the east side of the house.

Eddie had said she would also have to kill her mother, if she were to be discovered by the woman, and that her death would be on Mikki's head. Somehow after all that time had passed, Eddie knew she at least still cared about her mother in some way.

And if he knew she had maintained a sketchy connection to her mother, he likely would have insisted on both their deaths.

But it was her father who really deserved to die, didn't he?

She smelled the wood of the hallway as she passed by the several doors to her father's bedroom.

She stared momentarily at the photo, of the three of them, she and her parents, that had been taken right before she had gone to her senior prom. Terrible memories of the fights that had happened after she came home drunk that night oozed out like pus from a wound in her mind. Deep hatred she had not allowed herself to really feel for so long swelled from her, nearly choking her.

She pushed open the door, the sound of soft snoring entering her ears. She made out the figure of a single person in the bed, just barely. Her father had always liked the room very dark while he slept, and had installed heavy, dark green velvet curtains to ensure the tomb-like atmosphere.

She approached the bed, and the figure did not move at all or change any rhythm in breathing. Her father always could sleep through anything.

She raised the knife in both hands over the bed, and closed her eyes before a quick prayer.

Then she brought it down.

Outside, in the golden dawn just hitting the trees, a terrible, almost inhuman scream came from the Grassman estate, causing the crows to hasten their sunrise flight and burst from the branches.

* * *

Three teams had been dispatched in the town and surrounding areas of Barclay.

Gibbs and Ziva had just finished investigating a series of warehouses in an old industrial center that had been abandoned.

Dorneget and one of Fornell's men were investigating the old bus station, and another pair of FBI that had retrieved surveillance footage from the check-cashing facility, were also looking into possible locations for Black Eddie and his cohorts.

So far, nothing had turned up.

But Gibbs knew. He could feel it. His gut told him they were close…so close…

He sighed as Ziva buckled up and he started the car. "Next on the list?" he asked, pulling away from the curb.

She took her pen and crossed off the Albert Street Warehouses.

"Next is the Duncan School for the Deaf. It closed last year due to lack of funding. McGee said it is uphill, some distance from the other buildings on the street…"she took a look at the GPS console, and keyed in the longitude and latitude coordinates McGee had provided on all the addresses they found to investigate.

There had been almost two hundred possibilities, but Abby had narrowed them down to forty with cement as the controlled factor.

Gibbs wanted to pull the local LEOs to investigate part of the list, but they had refused without direct orders. Which Vance had promised would come through within the hour. Fornell was sending another team as well to continue looking.

Ziva had been very quiet other than necessary communication. It occurred strangely to Gibbs that when she was worried, she became a lot like him.

"We'll find him," Gibbs said quietly, coming to s stoplight and giving her a quick glance.

She was looking out the window, and just nodded.

His cell rang. It was McGee.

"Tell me, McGee," he said quickly.

"_Boss! We got her! I mean- they got her, because of what she did but they didn't know at first because they just took her in_-"

Gibbs frowned just for a moment, "WHO McGee?"

"_Mikki-Michelle Grassman! She was arrested for killing her mother!"_

Gibbs' heart rate kicked up. "McGee, get-"

"_Fornell involved . Yes I did and he's having her brought to NCIS for interrogation. She's in route and should be here by 16:00 hours."_

Gibbs could feel Ziva's dark eyes on him. McGee's excited tone had sounded clearly through the phone and she had hear every word.

"Let me interrogate her," Ziva said, too calmly.

With a crooked smile, Gibbs looked at her. "McGee, you find out what she knows. Get me something! Even with more teams-"

"_It's taking too long_," McGee said seriously. "_I…I know Boss. I'll handle it_." The last words were spoken with a kind of darkness that Gibbs had never heard from McGee.

"I know you will, Tim," he said and before he hung up, added "Keep Abby AWAY from her."

* * *

McGee sat across the interrogation room table, looking at an extremely pale Michelle Grassman.

Her eyes stared somewhere off to the side, not looking directly at him.

He began to speak, almost casually, as he sat back from the table and let his fingers glide off the folder he had in front of him.

"You're in an awful lot of trouble Mikki. Or should I call you _Michelle_?" he asked with subtle disdain. "We don't need anything other than the knife you used, and your father's statement, and you're going away for a long, long time."

She still did not look at McGee, or move, but he saw the subtle moisture collecting in her eyes.

"Why'd you do it? You hated your mom that much?" he asked softly.

"**No**!" she blurted out, finally looking at him with tragic eyes. "I didn't…I never hated her."

"You murdered her in cold blood!" McGee stood up, pulling a photo from the folder. It was a crime scene photo of her mother, neck bloody where Mikki had dealt the lethal strike.

She looked at the photo, and brought a shaking hand to her face, gasping as tears fell from her eyes.

"I find it hard to believe you feel remorse for this, Mikki."

"**FUCK YOU**!" she spat, shoving the photo at him and the folder along with it. They almost came off the table edge but he quickly stopped them.

He took a long moment, straightening the folder, and then walked around the table to whisper in her ear, "You're never gonna' see the light of day again, _Michelle_."

She was trembling but seemed to gather her composure back a little.

"But," McGee said casually, "you still could make a difference…could…do something right by telling us where Black Eddie has Agent DiNozzo."

Her expression shifted, and suddenly she threw back her head and laughed. "You're pathetic," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

"You know," McGee said, once again almost nonchalant, "Some women's prisons are worse than others. Some have really bad food. Some have really, really small, overpopulated cells. And some have a higher mortality rate for inmates."

He gave her another moment.

"We could make recommendations...either way. Is he really worth it Michelle?"

"**Stop calling me that name**!" she almost screamed at him. Then she hissed the words,"You're just as **pathetic** as that girlfriend of yours. Miss-know-it-all Abby. Stupid bitch. The two of you are some couple. You think you know anything about Black Eddie…he's a million times the man you are!"

"Why don't you tell me then?" McGee asked softly, "About him?"

She opened her mouth, and then closed it, staring at him with bloodshot eyes.

Suddenly, the interrogation room door burst open, and Abby stormed in with a terrible look on her face.

Before McGee could stop her, she leaned over Mikki and slapped her. "**How could you**?" Abby said in a low, searing growl. "How could you hurt them like that? They were just babies! What the **_HELL_** is wrong with you?"

Mikki just stared at Abby and then started to laugh again, hysterically.

McGee grabbed Abby and dragged her out of the room by her arms before she could attack Mikki again. She fought against him but he managed to get her outside the door. "Abby!" he yelled as she still made to pull away and get back in the room.

"Did she tell you where Tony is?" Abby asked angrily.

"Not yet," McGee said. "I'm working on it Abs-"

"**Let me** ! I can get her to tell us in like **two seconds**, McGee. I have hydrochloric acid and so many other…efficient things in my lab-"

"Abby," he warned. "Go back to the lab, _please_, and let me handle this." His big pale eyes bore into hers.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Ohhhkay. But…" she gave him a look of deep sadness, as he gently let go of her arms.

"What?" he asked, as Vance came out of observation to check on them.

"The…the blood…the sacrifices…I think I made a connection." She swallowed back the bile tickling her esophagus.

"Well, _spit it out_ Ms. Sciuto," Vance said calmly.

She glanced between them and took another deep breath. "I ran searches for missing persons reports in the cities where the other victims were found…and…there were at least four to five reports…of missing children…in a fifty mile radius where the mens' bodies were found."

Vance and McGee both paled.

"Jesus," Vance breathed.

After a somber moment, McGee asked, "No bodies recovered or any of the kids found alive?"

"No," Abby said hoarsely. "None. It's too much of a coincidence. And there are two so far in Barclay."

Vance let out a breath this time, "Ms. Sciuto, bring me a file with the information on all those missing children. McGee," he turned to better face the Agent, "You've been at this game for a while now with Michelle Grassman. Why don't we…bring her father in to speak to her and see if we can get anywhere."

"He just lost his wife," Abby said sadly.

"As much as I sympathize with that, Abby, we can't go with the hydrochloric acid to get the answers we need," Vance said with a slight smirk.

She looked away for a moment. "I'm ah…just going to go get those files…"

"You do that," Vance said. "McGee, you and Dorneget go get Mr. Grassman and bring him in."

"He was ah…very adamant he wanted to never see his daughter again," McGee replied. "He told the LEO's earlier today."

"Convince him, McGee. Agent DiNozzo's life might depend on it."

* * *

An hour and a half later, at exactly 22:00 hours, Michelle Grassman was now sitting across the table from her father and McGee.

Grassman held both hands clenched into fists atop the table, his jaw muscles twitching, and just about as pale as his daughter at this point.

Age lines in his face were even more exaggerated now than when the team had first met him, as evidence of the terrible grief and shock he'd suffered earlier. When Michelle had killed her mother, it was her scream that woke him and had him running to his wife's room.

Mikki was looking at her lap.

"Michelle," her father's exhausted voice was soft and held a numb quality to it that McGee knew was because the man was trying not to lose control. "These Agents…tell me you have information that could help save someone's life."

She didn't respond.

"**LOOK AT ME** !" her father suddenly barked.

Her eyes snapped up, rage and fear evident in them.

"You _tell_ them, Michelle, tell them what they need to know."

"Oh, because you say so _Daddy_?" she asked with a sick, venomous tone.

"No. Not because I say so, my only daughter. Because your mother…"the man suddenly lost his composure for a moment, bringing a shaking hand to his face.

McGee had expected yelling, even bullying based on what they knew of the Grassman family dynamics. But now, confronted with this situation, the man seemed to fall apart.

Grassman continued, with tears flowing and a choked voice. "I'm _sorry_ Michelle. Whatever I did to make you like this…to make you _do_ what you did…"

Michelle Grassman had never seen her father cry before, much less apologize to her. And it was that unexpected flow of emotion from the man she considered a cold-hearted bastard, that began to unravel her defenses.

"Michelle…your mother...she loved you so much. She never turned her back on you. I did though, and now I'm paying for it. We're both paying for it…Your mother saw what was good in you, always…please don't prove her wrong…"her father swiped at his face for a moment.

"It's too late Daddy. I belong to Eddie now."

"NO!" her father said. "You don't belong to _anyone_. Don't you understand? You ran from me…because…I tried to control you…this man, is controlling you, baby. I know you never would have…" he trembled harder, and stifled a sob. "He put you up to it…"

She suddenly frowned, confused. "I wasn't supposed to…"she whispered. "Wasn't supposed to…" and something clicked in her head. If she hadn't been doing what she was told, her mother would still be alive.

"He…he loves me."

"No. No baby, he doesn't," Grassman countered.

"**YOU DON'T KNOW!** You don't know _anything_," she said angrily, crying.

"I know you loved your mother. You_ loved_ her, Michelle…you killed her. You **KILLED HER**!"

Suddenly, Mikki seemed to curl in on herself as she shrieked. "**STOP SAYING THAT**!"

"Where are they, Mikki?" McGee asked.

"No!" she put her hands over her eyes.

Her father leaned forward, reaching across the table, and took her hands gently away from her face.

"Michelle, for Mommy's sake, tell them. She didn't deserve it Michelle. This man deserves to pay for making you do this…"

It was likely a combination of the pressure from NCIS, the grief that she had killed her mother, and her father's desperate apology and plea.

She crumbled.

She cried out "Daddy…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry Daddy!..."she sobbed as her estranged father put his arms around her, and since he could not forgive her or himself, wept with her.

McGee gave them a moment, and then clearly said, "Where? Where are they?"

With her face buried in her father's chest, she moaned, "Old Pennington Sanitarium."


	22. Chapter 22

It was far into the night when Gibbs pulled up with lights turned off next to the Sanitarium.

He could make out the building, its arched doorways and windows reminiscent of the era it was built in. It looked almost in ruins, but there were glowing lights within, indicative that someone was indeed inside.

Towards the west end of the massive brick expanse, smoke rose from one of several chimneys into the dark sky.

FBI Agents, NCIS Agents, and LEO's who had followed him down the mile and a half of dirt and gravel roads were careful to turn off lights as they pulled up as well, and were nearly silent as they got out of their cars, guns ready.

Ziva started to make her way without him until he softly called, "Ziva," stopping her in her tracks. He then signaled for her to wait for a moment. Her posture screamed 'Let's go!'

Gibbs had told the men via radio what was expected of them, but to be sure he eyed them all up close in the moonlight, pointing and signaling which should cover the back, the front, and which to take the other entrance. This was to be quiet, to take them by surprise, and hopefully not put Tony and any other captives in a bad position.

He nodded to Ziva as she began to prowl silently towards the doorway closest to them.

Gibbs heard some rustling in the brush and froze for a moment, halting the rest. He scanned as well as he could the dense forest that surrounded Old Pennington.

After a long span it was still silent, so he signaled and they pressed on.

Inside the doorway, the old semi-decayed wood was heavy and swollen with damp moisture and neglect. But the door was still on hinges. Ziva easily pushed it open, gun drawn.

It smelled like mold, and candles, and death. There was no mistaking the undercurrent of copper in the air.

Gibbs grimaced in the dark, with his eyes adjusting to the indoor light.

There were cathedral candles set up here and there on the floors, to give just enough light for one to see the vast hallways and stairwells, cast in a flat tone that was likely grey cement by day.

Gibbs turned and pointed some of the agents upstairs, and then turned to rejoin Ziva with several men at his flank. They headed east, since the other team had taken the west wing.

Up ahead, they could see a doorway with more light coming from it.

Light flashed across Ziva as she quickly leapt to the other side of the doorway while Gibbs covered her and came to stand next to it on the other side.

They heard nothing, so he peered in slightly.

He swallowed back the nausea he felt as he recognized the room from the video of Tony.

He quietly entered with gun drawn, but it was vacant.

Blood, in dark crimson masses pooled at the floor in one corner, underneath what looked to be a hanging bar and hook. An ornate table held the metallic chalice he had seen them force his SFA to drink from. Candles lined the room in large numbers, burnt two thirds down. He saw a fireplace, with dying embers, and next to it, a line of brands in the shape of the deadly symbols.

And in the middle was the horrible table.

It was slanted, with rings midway and at the top, ensconced in rope.

Tony had been tied down to those, terrified. He clenched his jaw.

He saw the blood also that stained the lowered head of that table, and the markings drawn over the top of it. The same markings as the brands.

"Gibbs," Ziva breathed softly.

He turned and nodded to her and the other agents in the hall, and suddenly from elsewhere in the building they heard a voice cry out, _"FBI! Put down your weapon!"_

They quickly ran out to the hallway, hearing now a chaotic mass of yelling and mens voices, but no gunfire.

"Report!" Gibbs said into his com.

_"Agent Gibbs, we have some of the suspects in custody already, and some are being taken as they try to get out back."_

"Copy that," Gibbs said, "has anyone found our missing Agent or Ted Handel?"

_"Negative,"_ chimed in three times over the coms from the assorted teams. And one added, _"So far, all we've got is kids, mostly unarmed."_

"Let's go," Gibbs said as Ziva and the other men pressed on.

They were forced to take a right down a long hallway, where double doors rested under a sign that said, "Restricted."

Gibbs knew this is where in the old days, the violent mentally ill would be kept, in quarters much like jail cells. He gut twitched.

"Stay close," he said softly to the men, as he and Ziva carefully approached the doors.

There were sparse candles again, but some light from outside also filtered into the hallway.

He took the lead this time, nudging the door and yelling "NCIS! Come out with your hands up!"

He was sure there would no longer be a surprise with some of the yelling and chaos he was still hearing outside and from elsewhere in the facility.

There was no movement, no sound, as he pushed the door open fully with gun raised.

Another hallway opened up to them, lit by sparse candles. He could see an alcove and desk, which were empty, and beyond that the bars of cells.

He and Ziva saw at the same time, light coming from one cell.

He motioned for the men to hang back, and wait for He and Ziva to clear the area.

She turned on a small flashlight now, in order to look into each cell to check for potential attackers.

He did the same, and took one side as she did the other.

As they approached the lit cell, a deep, familiar voice called out, "Come now, _Gunny_, you think I'd just hide in the dark and pick you off? That'd be too easy."

Gibbs' heart pounded in his chest.

Had Handel been waiting for him? Was Tony still alive?

He motioned to Ziva to stay back in the shadows. She turned off her flashlight with a nod.

"Teddy," Gibbs called out calmly, "Where's my Agent?"

"I haven't been called that name in many years Gunny. I'd prefer you address me as Eddie. As for your Agent, he's quite comfortable with me, right here. Alive. For now."

Ziva said a prayer under her breath Black Eddie was telling the truth.

"Eddie," Gibbs said, offering the name to appease him,"let's talk. Just you and me. It's about us after all, not anyone else." Gibbs inched closer to the cell, trying to see into it.

"Oh, that's where you're _wrong_, Gunny. So wrong. My Great Lord has delivered me time and time again, just so you could be given what's coming to you."

Gibbs lowered his weapon, as he finally, slowly, stepped in front of the cell bars that housed Handel, sitting on a cot of some kind, holding Tony half off the floor with a long, wavy blade against his throat.

Gibbs took in Handel's posture, his gaunt and aged face, as the pale eyes met his and followed him slowly as he walked to the farther corner of the cell.

Handel looked fairly relaxed, with the exception of the blade held by a slightly trembling hand. A small drip of blood came from where the knife was already cutting into Tony's skin. Gibbs' heart thudded inside his head. He had to be careful, and distract Handel long enough for Ziva to get off a shot.

But with that knife so close, they could not yet risk it.

"Disarm," Handel said coldly, pulling Tony's head back by the hair slightly.

Gibbs nodded and showed Handel clearly that he was placing his sidearm on the cold cement floor.

He stood slowly as well, taking in the limp form of his friend, who was shirtless but semi-shadowed so Gibbs could not tell by the candle light how badly Tony might be injured.

"I'm here," Gibbs said, "let my Agent go. I'll come in and we can talk."

Handel studied him for a moment, and then cocked his head and smiled. "This isn't your _Agent_, Gunny, this is your _family_. And you will lose him soon, because my Master has decreed it so. It is sooner then was planned, but he will die tonight. And so will you."

Gibbs wondered just how delusional Handel was.

"I don't see that happening, _Teddybear_."

**"Don't call me that !"** the man all but shrieked, his pale eyes bulging in his head. **"You have no right!"**

Gibbs frowned. "Your right. I don't."

Handel seemed confused, and Gibbs continued.

"I let you down. You saved my life. And I let you down. I left a man behind."

Handel was silent, but his brow began a deep furrow. "Traitors should _die_. You are my enemy. I lost…"he began and then looked confused once more.

"You lost everything, because you got hurt." Gibbs saw the fingers in Tony's hair loosen. "And I should have been there for you. I should have." Gibbs felt the honest pain of regret bleeding into his words. "But Teddy, I didn't know you were hit. The Chaplain came almost as soon as I was awake to tell me my family…my wife and daughter had been murdered stateside."

Gibbs watched Handels face, looking for any sign that the man believed him.

**"LIAR!"** he bellowed, tensing and causing the blade to dig deeper into Tony's throat.

"No," Gibbs said softly, in a soothing tone,"I swear to you, Teddy, I didn't know."

**"You don't leave a man behind! You never leave a man behind!"** Handel yelled, suddenly standing up and letting the knife drift away from Tony.

And in that moment, a blink of an eye, a bullet came from the dark, hitting the arm holding the knife. Gibbs got the horrific sensation this was like shooting fish in a barrel. Handel put himself in a no win, and had to be plain out of his mind to not see the error of his tactics.

Handel bellowed, a crazy half howl as he fumbled to grab the knife again.

Another shot rang out, and this time, Handel toppled over Tony and was still.

"Ziva!" Gibbs called grabbing up his gun, and shining a light on the cell door as Ziva pulled it open. It hadn't even been locked..

He called to the men out in the hallway. "Clear the rest of this floor! Use your flashlights on the cells."

They drifted past them, with several "Yes sirs."

"Call in an ambulance. Agent down!" Gibbs called into the com. "Have them wait for us to give the clear to enter."

_"Affirmative, Agent Gibbs"_ came one of the FBI agents in response.

Ziva huffed as she pulled to get Handel up off Tony, while Gibbs covered her. The knife lay off to the side, glinting in the dim light.

She finally rolled Handel away heavily, eyes open and staring at nothing. He was very dead.

"Tony," Ziva called urgently, as she reached his neck to feel for a pulse. He was on his side now, and Gibbs could make out one of the brands over his hips.

She looked up at Gibbs, and he thought for a moment the worst. Fear laced through him.

Then she smiled, "He's alive."

* * *

All in all, they had arrested 10 cult members that night. Gibbs wanted to interrogate them himself, but he needed to know Tony was alright. He did what no one expected; called Fornell and told him to head up the crime scene and work with McGee on interrogations. And then he called Vance to fill him in as quickly and to the point as possible.

Once they had gotten Tony into the light of the ambulance, they saw the ghastly condition of the younger man, pale with bruises all over him and the hideous symbol brands blistered and scabbing. Dried blood flaked around one corner of his mouth and a crumbling stain down one side of his neck and shoulder. In addition, there was a cut left by the knife that would need stitches.

Gibbs rode all the way to the closest hospital with him, as the EMT's continuously checked on him and watched Tony's vitals. They felt Tony was fairly stable, in spite of how he looked, and likely drugged judging by all the pinpricks on his arms.

Gibbs stared at him, grateful to have him back, and praying that he would be alright.

He thought about how the whole situation was his fault. Handel may have been crazy, but his last words echoed in Gibbs' mind.

Tony was a victim of his lack of being a good Marine. He shook his head at himself, thinking Tony deserved so much better in a leader and a friend.

Ziva waited with Gibbs while the doctors evaluated his SFA. He told the rest of the team he would call them when he got news, but Abby was on her way with Ducky anyhow.

About an hour and a half, three cups of coffee, a Doctor finally came out asking for them.

"Agent Gibbs?" The tall black man with wire-rimmed glasses asked.

"Yes," Gibbs said, as he and Ziva stood to talk to him.

"I am Doctor Broome. I just want to let you know, that Agent DiNozzo is doing well and is starting to regain consciousness."

Ziva flashed a happy smile at Gibbs as he nodded for the Doctor to continue.

"Agent DiNozzo has quite assuredly been drugged with an MDMA mixture, but aside the bruising and burns, has no broken bones or internal damage that we can see. We cleaned those wounds and dressed them. And his wrists also…they had some deeper friction damage but we will treat those as burns as well with the same topicals."

"Will the drugs have any permanent affect on him?" Ziva asked, her dark eyes serious.

"No," the Doctor said, "but he was given the drug for an extended amount of time so there will be mild withdrawal effects like fevers, sweats, mood swings. But I don't think that will take more than a few days. His labs came back fairly well for organ function, so we aren't worried about that.

The ah… cut, on his neck got fifteen stitches. Unfortunately, the burns will scar…but he can always have a plastic surgeon work with him after they have healed a bit."

Gibbs winced at that, though he was very pleased to hear Tony was actually doing so well.

"When can we see him?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, give us another half hour to finish cleaning him up, and get more fluids into him. He was dehydrated, so we will be watching that. If you go up to the third floor waiting room, we will let you know when he's settled in the regular room."

"When can he go home?" Ziva asked, yawning suddenly, now that she knew Tiny would be alright. Gibbs smiled, knowing she would likely fall asleep in a chair within the hour. They were all of them beyond spent.

The Doctor cocked his head thinking briefly, "Could be tomorrow, as long as he's doing alright."

"Thank you !" Ziva said, and Gibbs nodded, as the Doctor then smiled and excused himself.

* * *

They went up to the third floor and waited another forty minutes, and much as Gibbs suspected, Ziva was snoring in her chair. Abby and Ducky would be there any minute but it was headed towards morning already.

A nurse, looking a little tense, came into the waiting room. She was short and petite with a brown bob haircut and smart looking, hazel eyes.

Mr. Gibbs?" she asked hopefully looking at him.

"Yes, that's me." He stood up and decided to let Ziva sleep. She was actually drooling on herself just a little.

"Can you come with me?" she said a little breathlessly.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs asked her, worried they had missed something and Tony was in worse shape than the Doctors thought.

"Oh, ah, Mr. DiNozzo-"

"Agent," he corrected, keeping a brisk pace with her.

"Oh, sorry. Yes. Agent DiNozzo is awake…but, he's having some difficulty and we thought you might help to calm him down."

Gibbs passed some of the other patient rooms, expecting to hear something of a scene…Understandably, Tony had been through hell and maybe they shouldn't have thought it would be so easy once he woke up…

But Gibbs was unprepared for what he saw upon entering Tony's room.

Doctor Broome was talking calmly to the figure curled into a ball in the corner of the room. "It's okay, Agent DiNozzo, we're just trying to help you. That's all. Do you understand?"

He stood a ways back, and Gibbs could see the mess on the floor where Tony had likely knocked down his tray and IV pole. Blood on the white sheets and Tony's arm made it obvious he had ripped out the IV as well..

Gibbs also approached slowly, as the nurse stood back.

Tony was almost hyperventilating, shaking, and clutching his knees as he looked around the room with half-lidded, bloodshot eyes.

Gibbs put a hand gently on the Doctor's elbow, letting him know to stand down.

Broome looked at Gibbs sadly and nodded, "My guess is you didn't fill me in on all the details…Agent DiNozzo seems... traumatized."

"Let me," Gibbs said softly.

He approached slowly, and crouched down a little to make eye contact. "Tony."

The younger man continued his extremely agitated breathing and turned his confused gaze on Gibbs.

"DiNozzo!" he said loudly, "You with me?"

Tony's eyes widened a little, and his breathing slowed a fraction. He swallowed, and then nodded ever so slightly.

"Talk to me," Gibbs said gently, getting a little closer.

Tony opened his mouth, parting his lips in effort to say something, but suddenly his brows came together and the hyperventilating started up again. He shook his head and then brought his hands to his face, rocking slightly.

"Jesus," Gibbs muttered angrily,"c'mon, DiNozzo, say something." He put a hand on Tony's arm to comfort him but Tony jerked and pulled away, scrambling to get away from the touch.

Then, suddenly, he doubled over and vomited dark, crimson fluid all over the pristine hospital floor as the nurse gasped,"Oh my God."

Gibbs refused to let Tony shut him out, and rubbed the younger mans back as his body emptied out the rest of what Gibbs knew was not Tony's blood.

"It's not his," Gibbs said in a barely audible voice, as the nurse and Doctor looked on in horror. Blood was dribbling from his lower lip, onto the widening puddle.

"Obvious from the color," the Doctor said, and then tuned to the nurse. "I need a mild sedative."

She quickly left the room.

Tony finally just about went limp, sweaty and exhausted.

Gibbs nodded to the Doctor, and they both picked him up and got him into bed. It was then Gibbs saw the tear tracks on his friend's face, and the look in his eyes that could only be described as shellshocked.

The nurse came in once more and quickly administered the injection, while Tony looked tiredly at the wall.

Gibbs took tissue and cleaned off the blood from his friend's mouth and face as the Doctor patiently stood by.

Then stroked Tony's hair for just a moment, saying "It's okay Tony, we've got you. It's all over. Handel's dead. We got him."

Tony looked at him for just a moment, and then closed his eyes, succumbing to ehxaustion and the sedative.

Gibbs blew out a shaky breath. "Goddammit."

"Agent Gibbs," the Doctor said quietly, "I think we'd better talk."


	23. Chapter 23

A/N - ***sigh*** I am apologizing, AGAIN, my awesome readers, for such a torturously long gap since the last chapter ! I am so sorry ! All I can say is that it pains me as much not to be writing, as it does for you guys not to get a chappie. Life has just been crazy- but I have a good bit more to go on Black Sand. And several new story ideas! Getting back into the story- here's the next bit-

Love MG

* * *

Gibbs felt molten anger simmering under his skin. They stood just outside Tony's door.

Gibbs stared for a moment at the doctor coldly."I want him transferred to Bethesda, so his regular Doc can see him."

"Agent Gibbs, I don't think-"

"No, I know you _don't think_, Doc. How'd ya' think he got those injuries?" Gibbs almost hissed out the last words. He had to make the doctor understand, that Tony needed to be cared for properly. Tony needed to be alright, had to be alright, in spite of how badly Gibbs himself had screwed everything up.

The doctor frowned for a moment. "I've never seen injuries like those, Agent Gibbs, so I can't say-"

"I want him transferred. **Now**. " The tone was final, and the Doctor took note of how Gibbs' hands were shaking at his sides.

The doctor sighed, "Alright, but, I am going to recommend he be -"

Suddenly, Gibbs had a forearm at the Doctor's throat, pinning him to the wall. The man choked on his gasp with wide eyes.

"**Jethro**!" Ducky's voice quickly cut in through the building rage Gibbs felt. The ME's familiar hand gently pulled him back off the Doctor, who sputtered and was still shocked at Gibbs' behavior.

Gibbs muttered a curse under his breath and turned away from the Doctor . As the Doctor tried to get his glasses back on right, Ducky quickly swooped in to do damage control. He could hear Ducky explaining all the stress Gibbs and the agents had been under as the older man ushered the Doctor down the hallway and away from Gibbs.

Gibbs finally turned to look at them as they rounded a corner, his eyes trailing after the Broome angrily.

He suddenly lost all his adrenaline, and leaned heavily back against the wall with a sigh. His mind was in chaos, going over and over why it was he never really tried to find out what happened to Handel. Why he had let a good man face devastating fallout from saving his life, alone. And then Tony had to pay for it, and countless others, including children.

"Because you were **weak**, you dumb son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, sliding one hand down his face. And then he closed his eyes, and whispered to himself, "Never leave a man behind."

It was a while that he stood there, slumped against the wall. He was almost too exhausted to get himself to go take one of the available seats in the waiting area only fifteen feet away.

"Jethro."

Gibbs turned, letting out a small sigh and looking sadly at the ME. "Duck..." He said, suddenly a bit hoarse.

"Let's go sit down for a moment," Ducky said gently, pulling him towards the orange chairs.

Gibbs nodded, but gave the door of Tony's room a pained glance as they passed it.

They sat, and Ducky took in his friend's pallor, and haunted eyes.

"Where's Abby?" Gibbs asked the older man.

"I took the liberty of ordering Abby to stay put with Ziva for the moment out in the waiting room, so that I could ascertain what was going on first. You know, Abby can be...exuberant in her joy of seeing her loved ones safe. I thought it prudent-"

"I gotcha Duck. Was a good idea. DiNozzo...he's a little...disoriented right now."

Ducky's blue eyes roamed Jethro's face intently. "And?"

Gibbs took a shaky breath. "I don't understand how we got here..." Gibbs' mind was swirling. "Ted Handel was delusional, and we subdued him quickly. I just..."

"It wasn't the closure you anticipated, my friend," Ducky said softly.

"No."

"He was very sick, Jethro, and a most maliciously twisted individual. But I suspect he wasn't very functional, and had become reliant on his followers."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, looks like his minions did most of the work... He wasn't the man I knew. "

"No, Jethro, he was not. The man you knew was an upstanding individual, who saved your life. But when he got injured, that man ceased to be, I am afraid."

Gibbs shook his head and shrugged," My fault, Duck. Handel …Teddy deserved better. And now Tony..."

"Is _alive _because you got to him in time," Ducky said vehemently. "How is he?" Ducky asked, his blue eyes flashing towards Tony's door.

"Well, he looks like Hell. He...had an episode. Couldn't even respond to me verbally. He still has drugs in his system, but other than that the Doc thinks he's just peachy." Gibbs caught himself almost yelling the words.

Ducky frowned.

To elaborate, Gibbs continued, "He's a quack."

Ducky raised an eyebrow and smiled just a little at the term. "You know I reviewed Anthony's intake and treatment…and I understand you want him at Bethesda. I don't disagree, but the Doctor did not treat his physical issues incorrectly."

Gibbs snorted. "That Broome guy doesn't know ass from elbow. And Tony...he couldn't …he puked blood all over the floor, and they had to sedate him."

Ducky paled. "Good Lord. No wonder you're this agitated."

Gibbs suddenly stood up, dragging hands through his hair. He took a few steps, and then turned to look at Ducky gravely,"Tony could be...psychologically affected by what Handel did to him..."

"How could he _not be_?" Duck asked softly. "We have yet to even know what transpired inside the walls of that sanitarium, Jethro. But there are some things I know beyond any doubt." He paused to make sure his friend was looking at him." This _not _your fault. Not what happened to Handel, nor what happened to Tony. And you need to disseminate your guilt and doubts, because Anthony needs you."

Gibbs looked away, with a vague grimace. He finally nodded, and sat down exit to Ducky again.

"He was so far gone..."Gibbs said in a near whisper.

"Handel?"

"Yeah. I thought when I saw him..."

"That you could talk some sense into him?"

Gibbs nodded, "That there was something left...of the man I knew. But it was not the case. And it was over so fast..."

"And you're left still holding all the guilt. With no real closure other than a dangerously mentally ill murderer is dead. But Jethro, it could only have ended this way, and thank God, we have our friend back. And we will help him get through this any way we can."

Gibbs nodded. "Let's get him down to Bethesda and take it from there.

* * *

It was almost noon at Bethesda, as Gibbs watched Abby sleeping across several chairs in the lounge. Ducky and Ziva had gone home to get much needed rest, and Gibbs knew they would see McGee eventually when he was done helping Fornell make sure things were being handled properly with the rag-tag cult members they had rounded up. Brief calls from McGee filled Gibbs in on some of what they were facing. Some of the members were spilling their guts for a deal, while others stuck with religious fervor and refused to betray their master.

Abby murmured something and then snuggled her head into Bert, whom she had brought along for moral support…and a pillow. Gibbs smiled at her and softly stroked her hair for a moment.

Dr. Pitt had seen them in the morning, upon arrival, and assured Gibbs he would take good care of Tony. When Gibbs took ten minutes to brief the Doctor on what had happened to Tony, at least what they knew of it, the man turned almost as green as his scrubs. Since then, he got glimpses and occasional nods as he saw the Doctor coming and going to consult the labs on findings for his SFA.

Finally now, almost eleven hours after they had rescued Tony, the man approached Gibbs to give him the lowdown, or at least the _real_ lowdown, since he still felt Dr. Broome was an idiot.

Pitt approached and smiled when he took in Abby and Bert, and motioned Gibbs to take a walk with him as not to disturb her.

"Tell me," Gibbs said quietly.

Pitt walked with him, in the direction of the new room Tony was in. "His lungs and organs are okay. His cut was superficial, and the burns are going to heal. The drugs are almost completely out of his system, though…he's not altogether comfortable."

Gibbs slowed and looked at him. "Why?"

Pitt stopped, and looked around for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Then he looked at Gibbs seriously. "Withdrawl, mostly. Shakes, sweats, but mild and considering the type of drugs and length of time they were given to him, it will pass quickly enough."

Gibbs felt the hesitation. "What are you not telling me, Doc?"

"Gibbs, he's been awake for three hours. And hasn't said a word."

Gibbs to a shaky breath, and said, "last night…he seemed like…he couldn't talk. But I wasn't sure if it was just…well, he got sick all over the place…"

Pitt grimaced, "Yeah, I know. But I don't think that was what kept him from speaking to you. Based on what you..." Pitt paused to swallow harshly, "what you told me what he's been subjected to, I think this is a stress reaction. He needs evaluation."

"For what?" Gibbs asked sharply, but he already knew the answer.

"Psychological evaluation, Gibbs. And the sooner the better. " Pitt looked at Gibbs' stricken face. "It's understandable, and maybe this is just temporary, with the moderate withdrawl and what he's been through. Let's give him two days here, so I can make sure he's come through it all completely. And maybe you can talk to him. He's calm now, at least, and he does look at me when I talk to him, and nod to yes or no questions. We can decide before I release him what he may need."

Gibbs felt the implication in Pitt's last few words. "No. No inpatient. Out of the question. He can't have that on his record. I'm still his proxy and I won't allow it. I'll have him stay with me and take him to see Cranston."

"What if this is out of her league?"

Gibbs couldn't entertain the idea. So he simply answered, "Then we'll cross that Bridge when we come to it."


End file.
